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BOY SCOUTS 
ON SPECIAL SERVICE 


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The little speech seemed to give the crowd 

SOMETHING TO REFLECT UPON. Frontispiece. 

See page //j. 


BOY SCOUTS ON 
SPECIAL SERVICE 


BY 

CHARLES HENRY LERRIGO 
L 


With Illustrations by 
George A, Newman 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright, 1922, 

By Little^ Brown, and Company. 


All rights reserved 
Published September, 1922 




PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


SEP 22 ’22 

©CI.A681872 
■^.6 I 


CONTENTS 


CBAPTSH PAC* 

I Reporting To Headquarters . . 1 

II Going Over 11 

III Secret Service 23 

IV Rooney The Rash 36 

V A Simple French Lady .... 50 

VI "‘The Squelette”* 62 

VII Sergeant McGiffon^s Brother . . 75 

VIII 40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux .... 88 

IX Billy Entertains at Tours . . 10.1 

X Keep The Home Fires Burning . 114 
XI Billy Rescues a General . .128 

XII Under Fire 141 

XIII Wounded in Action 154 

XIV Fourth of July in Paris . . .167 

XV Just a Y. M. C. A. Man .... 179 

XVI Cut Out For a Hero .... 191 
XVII No Trade With The Enemy . . 203 

XVIII Birthday Gifts 216 

XIX A Fellow Named Swartz . . . 229 

XX The Hundredth Prisoner . . . 242 

XXI Back to The Homeland . . . 255 







ILLUSTRATIONS 


The little speech seemed to give the crowd some- 
thing to reflect upon Frontispiece 


PACK 

Billy sat very still in the bow of the big boat . 22 

“ Give me all the money the soldier gave you ” . 152 

An officer pinned on Billy’s chest the famous 

French Croix de Guerre 261 



BOY SCOUTS ON 
SPECIAL SERVICE 


CHAPTER I 

FATHER AND SON REPORT TO HEADQUARTERS 

Perhaps the reason Billy Ransom thought so 
much of Maytown was because he was born there. 
At one period of his young life he had believed it 
to be the largest and most important city in the 
world. Later on he had learned better, for not only 
had he studied geography and history but his own 
travels had shown him larger cities. But although 
he was nearly fifteen and a sophomore in Maytown 
High School, he still cherished a great faith in his 
own town and desired no greater fame than to be 
famous in the eyes of its citizens. 

Since Billy had been a little boy he had seen a lot 

of improvements in Maytown. He had seen the 
1 


2 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

new city hall go up, and also the Maytown hospital. 
The city library had been moved, within his knowl- 
edge, from two rooms over the fire station to its 
own nice building of stone and brick veneer. He 
was a charter member of Maytown Troop 3 of Boy 
Scouts, and patrol leader of Antelope patrol. And 
Troop 3 had a building of its own. It was quite 
small and of frame construction, but none the less 
it made good scout headquarters. 

In the spring of 1917 when all the world was at 
war, one of the great disappointments that came to 
Maytown was its inability to have its own regiment, 
or at least a full company. But the best that could 
be managed was to swell the complement of a 
neighboring town. 

Troop 3 felt this very keenly. So far as they 
were concerned they were ready for any service. 
Their chief activities were running errands for the 
Red Cross, but this did not satisfy them. They 
wanted to do something unique. They were 
anxious, both as individual scouts and as a troop, 
to be Boy Scouts on Special Service. 

Billy had one qualification that he felt sure would 
be of great value if it could be put to practical use. 
This was his knowledge of the French language. 
He had been encouraged by his father. Doctor Ran- 


Reporting To Headquarters 3 

som, to take good advantage of such opportunities 
as were offered, both in study classes and in per- 
sonal relations with the two French families who 
lived in May town, to improve his use of the charm- 
ing but mysterious language of France. This was 
partly because Billyhs aunt, who was Doctor Ran- 
som^s sister, lived in France. She had married a 
young French surgeon, who had taken her to live 
in Paris. In expectation of visiting their French 
relatives at some near future time, all of the Ran- 
som family cultivated the French language. 

Years ago Billy had made a lucky find in the way 
of a chum. He had discovered that the busy doc- 
tor who was his father was intensely interested in 
all of his doings and always ready to join in them 
so far as professional duties allowed. Possibly 
Doctor Ransom was no better in reality than most 
fathers, but the difference lay in the fact that Billy 
had actually discovered how good a chum his father 
could be and ran to him with every item of inter- 
est, just as a matter of course. The doctor appreci- 
ated this, and’ busy as he was, he saw that the boy 
was seldom disappointed. 

So when it came to these exciting war times, and 
the wild urge to get into things stirred in Billy’s 
breast, just as it did in some millions of other boys 


4 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

in the land, the first person in whom Billy confided 
was his father. 

“ rd have been awfully disappointed if you hadn’t 
felt about like that, Billy,” said Doctor Ransom. 
‘‘ That’s just the way I feel myself. I may have to 
go away from here before the war ends and get 
closer to it. I’m too old to get into the fighting, 
just as you are too young.” 

I’m pretty nearly fifteen, dad,” said Billy. 
‘‘And I’m growing awfully quick.” 

“ This country doesn’t need you boys who are 
‘ pretty nearly fifteen ’ in the fighting lines, Billy, 
but it needs you awfully much in many other places. 
I’ll tell you what let’s do, Billy. I’ll ask the Amer- 
ican Red Cross to use me the most they can in war 
work, and you ask the Boy Scouts of America to 
do the same thing by you. Let’s both write letters 
to our headquarters, this very day.” 

Billy’s letter had to go clear to New York City; 
the doctor’s only to Washington. Nevertheless, 
Billy was the first to get a reply. 

“ Your letter written in behalf of Maytown 
Troop 3, and endorsed by your scoutmaster, 
exhibits the spirit that we want to see all through 
this land,” wrote the Chief Scout Executive. 
“ There is important work for every scout, in this 


Reporting To Headquarters 5 

crisis. It will be so diversified that I cannot in this 
letter begin to outline all the fields in which your 
work may be required. The first thing is to see that 
every boy of scout age is enrolled and in good 
standing. This is recruiting time, right now! Let 
Maytown Troop 3 see to it that no boy is slighted. 
Fill up your troop ! When that is done you will be 
ready for orders 

Billy read the letter at the next scout meeting, 
and Troop 3 proceeded to draw the net. “ Let no 
worthy boy escape,’’ became their motto. Instead 
of meeting only on Friday nights, they held meet- 
ings on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and at 
every meeting they discussed prospective members, 
acted on the names of candidates, and laid plans to 
enlist those who were especially stubborn. 

Billy brought in four new members in the first 
week. The troop soon had enough candidates to 
fill all the vacancies in the old patrols and cause 
them to plan a new one, which they named Tiger 
patrol, in advance, because its members would all 
have the fighting spirit. 

You’ve been trying to make a scout out of 
Buddy Seldem for about three years, Billy,” said 
Lafe Rider. Get him to join the Tigers and tell 


6 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

him that maybe the fellows will choose him for 
patrol leader, since he^s such a bloodhound.” 

Tve tried, but I can’t get him yet,” admitted 
Billy. ‘‘ He says he’s after the real thing. He 
doesn’t want any Boy Scout business in his.” 

‘‘ What does he mean by the real thing? ” asked 
the scoutmaster. 

Oh, Buddy’s bound he’s going to be a hero,” 
replied Billy. “ His lanky body has shot up so high 
that his brains have found hard work to catch up. 
He’s six feet tall right now, and to hear him talk 
he’s more of a man than anybody in six counties.” 

'‘Talk is the word!” interrupted Lafe. "I’ve 
heard Buddy talk. He’s sick of this place. He’s 
sick of a town that doesn’t even have a regiment of 
its own. He’s sick of being called Buddy. He’s a 
fighter from away, way back. He’s going right to 
war and he’s going to win the D. S. C. and all kinds 
of decorations. When he comes back home, he’ll 
have enough military hardware so he’ll be able to 
start an exhibition case in the city library.” 

" I wonder if Buddy knows that the kind of 
valor that wins the Distinguished Service Cross is 
seldom distinguished by talk,” said the Scoutmaster. 
" Don’t give him up yet, Billy. There’s nothing 


Reporting To Headquarters 7 

wrong about this desire to be a hero. You’d like to 
be one yourself, wouldn’t you ? ” 

Billy’s color ran a little higher than usual. 

Yes, sir ; I surely would. I reckon I was born 
a few years too late to be a hero in this war, though, 
so I’ll just have to be content with being a good 
scout. I’ll keep after Buddy. He’s too young for 
soldier work, according to my dad, and I guess dad 
knows.” 

‘‘ I venture to predict that he won’t be more of a 
hero than you fellows, no matter what he does,” 
prophesied the scoutmaster. 

Billy went after Bud Seldem again. 

Better join us. Buddy,” he urged. ‘‘ You know 
you can’t enlist in the army. Even if they would 
take you, your folks wouldn’t give permission.” 

‘‘ Folks nothing ! ” said Buddy contemptuously. 

Who’s going to ask any folks ? When a fellow 
looks like he was eighteen they don’t bother about 
his folks. You’re just a kid, Billy. You don’t 
understand. Go on away and play Boy Scout 
again.” 

He turned sco-rnfully away and Billy walked 
home to take counsel with his father about this hard 
situation. But when he reached home he found the 
household all excitement. Something had happened 


8 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

that drove all thought of Buddy Seldem out of his 
head. Doctor Ransom had received a commission 
from the American Red Cross, with the rank of 
major, and was ordered to prepare for immediate 
service in France. 

You can’t go to France without me, dad,” cried 
Billy. You know you admitted yourself that my 
French is a lot better than yours. You’ll need me 
the worst way.” 

‘‘ But I’m afraid I’ll have to get along without 
you, Billy, much as I’d like to have you go. I sup- 
pose you’d be perfectly safe in Paris with your 
aunt, and then there’ d be nothing to keep mother 
from spending the time of my absence in Florida 
with grandma. But I don’t believe even a Red 
Cross officer can manage to take his family with 
him.” 

“ But you can try, dad,” said Billy. ‘‘ Promise 
me you’ll try. Oh, it would just be too bully for 
anything if I could go with you.” 

'‘And what about me, Billy ? ” asked Mrs. Ran- 
som. 

“ Oh, I’d be awfully sorry to go away from you, 
mother. But you know how you’ve been saying 
grandma needs you. And you’d have a dandy time 


Reporting To Headquarters 9 

in Florida. Please say that dad can try to arrange 
for me to go.” 

‘‘Trying’s all right, Billy. But it’s a wild idea. 
They just positively don’t do such things.” 

“But I can be a real help, father. I’ve been 
spending a good part of every day with Monsieur 
Ouimet for a long time, and he says I talk like a 
native. I’m sure the Red Cross people need inter- 
preters.” 

“ Probably, Billy. But it’s just like the army. 
They want a little maturity, too. They don’t want 
boys.” 

“ But do try, dad. Just say that you have a son 
who is good at French and will make a good inter- 
preter for you, and also look after your clothes and 
errands and cooking. You know I passed my cook- 
ing test, and I could always get you something good 
to eat.” 

“ I fear they would not even be persuaded by that, 
Billy. It isn’t quite as strict a matter as the army, 
so I will try ; but don’t have any great expectations. 
I wouldn’t try at all, but I know that you really can 
be useful, and your Aunt Ella will be very glad to 
have you stay with her in Paris, now that Henri is 
at the front.” 


10 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ Henri ’’ was Aunt Ella’s husband, Major Des- 
champs, an officer of the French army. 

‘‘ Won’t it be fine if I can, dad,” cried Billy in 
rapture. “And wouldn’t it be just too awfully 
splendid for anything if we could both get to go 
across on Uncle Edwin’s ship.” 

“You are letting your imagination run into fairy 
visions, Billy,” said Doctor Ransom gravely. 
“They are quite unwarranted. I shall make an 
effort, as I have promised, but you may as well 
understand that there is only the remotest chance 
that it will be successful. If you have the sense of 
a good scout you will just make up your mind that 
you can’t go.” 

But for once Billy refused to be sensible. 


CHAPTER II 


GOING OVER 

Billy Ransom did get to France, after all. To 
this day very few persons know how it was accom- 
plished. Perhaps it was because in those early days 
of America’s entrance into the War everything was 
in confusion. Perhaps because Dr. Ransom was in 
urgent demand over there for important Red Cross 
work and desired very much that Billy should be 
allowed to visit his French relatives. Perhaps the 
fact that Billy’s own Uncle Edwin was in command 
of the transport counted. Perhaps it was all these 
things combined. Anyway, the fact remains that 
Billy Ransom got to France, and that while there 
he wore his Boy Scout uniform and was often taken 
for one of Des Eclaireurs de France, which is the 
way they speak of French Boy Scouts. The Boy 
Scout uniform being much the same the world over, 
it was not difficult for Billy to look like a French 
boy. 


11 


12 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Dr. Ransom and Billy had been assigned a state- 
room on the hurricane deck. But a very seasick 
lieutenant was discovered for whom no stateroom 
accommodations had been made. So .Billy, eager to 
help, took quarters with the enlisted men of the 
199th in Section Lower C. 

Lower C housed 180 men. To reach it you went 
to the “ fore well deck ”, entered a hatchway, and 
went down two decks. Its light all came from the 
overhead hatch or from electric lights. Its ventila- 
tion was carried on by means of two great canvas 
ventilators that ran through to the upper deck. Its 
furniture was nothing at all but wooden bunks — 
long rows of them — in double tiers, with an occa- 
sional aisle so that it was possible to get in or out of 
a bunk without climbing over too many neighbors. 
There was not a chair, not a table, not a washstand. 
Washing and shaving were done in a big wash room 
amidships. 

Eating was done on deck, wherever one could find 
sitting or standing room, after having stood in line 
for his turn at the big cooks’ galley on the fore well 
deck. No eatables were to be taken below decks, 
except in very severe weather. 

Now there was a place reserved for Billy Ransom 
next to his father, the doctor, in the officers’ dining 


13 


Going Over 

saloon. But after the first day that place was 
vacant. Billy, with his father's permission, pre- 
ferred to mess with Section Lower C. He had 180 
bosom friends in that section within forty-eight 
hours, and there was never any trouble about find- 
ing him an aluminum cup and mess kit. 

Billy liked that aluminum mess kit. He quickly 
learned how to take his ‘‘ slum " in the meat can 
and slip the flat cover back along the handle, where 
it made an excellent plate for bread and prunes. 
He hooked the handle of his cup over his belt and 
used it to hold water instead of the coffee which 
was the universal drink of the men. There was 
plenty of food, and if it were not well-cooked or so 
nicely seasoned as that served in the officers' mess, 
it found no carping critic in Billy Ransom. 

The study of French was one of Billy's most 
important tasks. He was very sure that if he were 
to be of any use to any one in France, it would be 
because of his ability to use both languages. One 
of the ways in which he made himself popular in 
Section Lower C was in giving elementary instruc- 
tion to a large, informal class, in the use of simple 
French nouns and verbs. 

Many of the soldiers who did not enjoy regular 
classes would cheerfully join in such a class as 


14 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Billy conducted and profit not a little thereby. They 
would squat around on the deck or loll against the 
ship’s rail, chairs being absolutely unknown articles 
to the soldiers traveling on army transports. 

“ Tell me one good French word, Billy,” one boy 
would say. ‘‘ My girl says she knows I’ll never 
learn a single word of French. I’m going to show 
her when I get back.” 

“What kind of word would you like?” asked 
Billy. 

“ Oh, any word that I can use a lot ! ” 

“ That’s the stuff, Billy,” shouted a chorus. 
“ Teach us some words that we can use a lot.” 

“All right,” Billy responded. “ The French word 
for ‘ a lot ’ — and it is used a lot all over France — 
is spelled b-e-a-u-c-o-u-p, but it is pronounced bo- 
koo. Get it — bo-koo ? ” 

“ Bokoo,” rolled up a mighty chorus. “ Bo- 
koo! Do you speak French? I do! Bo-koo! 
meaning a lot. Bokoo ! Bokoo ! ” 

“ Tell us ‘ Howdy ’ in French, Billy.” 

“ What the French really say isn’t ‘ How do you 
do? ’ but ‘ How do you go? ’ They say Comment 
alles-vousf The way they usually speak it, you will 
probably think they say ‘ ko-man tully voo’.” 

“ Say that again, Billy.” 


15 


Going Over 

Ko-man tully voo/’ 

“ That goes, fellows. After this, no ‘ Howdy 
remember. Everybody in Company B says ‘ Ko- 
man tully voo/ Now all together — Ko-man tul-ly 
voo!’ Fine work!’’ 

It really was fine work. A French cook put his 
head through an open port on the hurricane deck 
and shouted: 

Trh bien, merci! Et vousf** 

“What did he say, Billy. Tell us what the 
Frenchy said and what it means,” shouted the 
crowd. 

“ He was replying to your question in the French 
way. He said ‘ Very well, thanks.’ Then he added, 
as the French are always particular to do, And 
you ? ’ meaning. And how are you ? ’ ” 

This was not so easy. There was a laughing dis- 
position to make tres bien sound like “ three beans” 
But the boys who made sincere efforts soon mas- 
tered the phrases. 

When the men of Section Lower C were assigned 
for boat drill they were given places on the port 
side of the “ boat deck ”, so that their trip to their 
proper station, at the signal “ abandon ship ”, led 
them from the lowest position to the highest. But 
they were wiry animals, one hundred and eighty 


16 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

bunches of American vitality, with muscles and 
joints flexible and elastic, yet firm with the even 
quality of tempered steel. After one or two prac- 
tice trips, it was their proud boast that every man of 
Section Lower C was in his place in less than four 
minutes after the alarm was sounded. The aban- 
don ship ” drill came every morning, usually just 
before morning inspection. In practice drill the call 
was six blasts of the ship’s bugle, but it was under- 
stood that for a genuine alarm, the six blasts would 
be sounded by the ship’s siren. 

This was the time when the German submarines 
were at their worst. Hitherto they had been unable 
to destroy an army transport. But it was well 
known that great rewards were offered the sub- 
marine commander who could accomplish this feat. 

So the ‘‘ abandon ship ” drill was no idle cere- 
mony. A real danger existed and must be guarded 
against. Life belts were issued to every man, and 
when the drill signal was sounded, each one jumped 
for his life belt and ran to his station. 

I think, Billy,” said Dr. Ransom, ‘‘ that you 
really ought to be stationed with me at this ‘ aban- 
don ship ’ drill.” 

‘‘ But, father,” objected Billy. ‘‘ I’m bunking 


Going Over 17 

with the men in Section Lower C ; isn’t it better for 
me to go right along with them ? ” 

I suppose it is, my boy,” admitted the Doctor. 
‘‘ I would like to have you with me, but the other 
does seem better. Remember, Billy, if there ever 
should be a real attack, and a real ' abandon ship ’ 
alarm, don’t forget to signal to me, and don’t for- 
get that I am depending upon you to act the man.” 

No, sir,” Billy promised, I won’t forget.” 

There came a morning when Billy was awakened 
by Sergeant McGiffon so early that the faintest 
glimmer of the dawn had not yet crept down the 
hatch. 

It’s daybreak, Billy,” said the Sergeant. Come 
up on deck. There’s something to see.” 

Billy jumped into his cap and shoes, the rest of 
his clothing being already on, and followed to the 
deck. 

What is it? ” he asked. 

** Look around and see if you can find out.” 

Billy peered eagerly through the gray light of the 
early dawn. A few lengths ahead he could see the 
flagship of the convoy. To port he could make out 
three other transports. On the starboard side, there 
were five, and five were in the rear. It was about 


18 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the order in which the convoy had been running 
from day to day. 

“ It’s fine to look at,” he said, but I don’t see 
anything new.” 

‘‘ Go see if you can borrow your father’s field 
glasses and then look,” suggested McGiffon. 

By the time Billy returned with the glasses the 
sky had brightened. Off in the distance he could see 
with the naked eye a cloud of smoke that did not 
come from any vessel of the convoy. A chilly feel- 
ing crept along Billy’s spine, a peculiar dryness came 
into his mouth and throat. He leveled the field 
glasses at the black object with hands that trembled. 

Then he gave a great shout of exultation. “ It’s 
a destroyer, Sarge,” he cried, ‘‘and it’s flying our 
colors ! ” 

“ Sure it is ! ” responded McGiffon. “ Look a 
little to the east and you’ll see two more of them. 
Off to the west I can make out three, and back of 
the convoy two more. They say there are ten alto- 
gether.” 

“Ten destroyers to look after this convoy! 
They’re taking pretty good care of us, Sergeant. I 
suppose we’re pretty safe, now.” 

“ We are and we aren’t. When you see destroy- 
ers around you, it is a safe guess that you are where 


Going Over 19 

they are needed. We’re in the danger zone now, 
and shall be until we get pretty well into port.” 

There was nothing in the danger zone that looked 
different from the course they had been traveling. 
A' few of the older men and officers may have felt 
some concern, but most were joyously anticipating 
an early landing, and finding in the patrol of 
destroyers a new diversion. There was even some 
grumbling at the new orders that every man should 
wear his life belt constantly and should not remove 
any clothing when lying down to rest. 

By dinner time the excitement had pretty well 
worn away. After eating, Billy went below, his 
eyes heavy from lack of sleep. 

Most of the bunks were occupied by men trying 
to make up lost sleep so that they could be fresh for 
landing. 

Scarcely had Billy stretched himself in his bunk 
when there came a tremendous crash. It was a ter- 
rific, tearing, rending noise as if the ship were being 
wrenched asunder. The vessel actually stopped. 
She listed over as if some great monster of the deep 
were tipping her up. 

There was a moment of horrible silence, then 
came a terrible babel of voices, shouting, calling, 
pleading, commanding. One officer was shouting 


20 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

orders to close the bulkhead doors, another was de- 
tailing men to guard the hatches. Men were shout- 
ing: ** What is it? We’re hit! ” 

“ We’re sinking I ” They were grabbing for their 
packs and overcoats. There were signs of panic. 

Suddenly, above the tumult, came the six deafen- 
ing blasts of the ship’s siren, sounding the first bona 
^fide abandon ship call. 

Instead of adding to the excitement, it gave confi- 
dence and quiet. Here was something definite to do. 
Every man was to go immediately to a certain defi- 
nite place, carry certain definite equipment, and be 
ready to perform certain definite duties when so 
ordered. 

In a second, Billy was jumping up the hatch, one 
of a pyramid of men, with Sergeant McGiffon at 
his elbow. In three minutes every man of Section 
Lower C had found his place. In another minute 
the whole seething mass of men had taken their sta- 
tions, and quiet and order prevailed on that mighty 
vessel. 

Billy’s first act was to jump up and wave his 
handkerchief in the direction in which he knew Dr. 
Ransom should be. An answering wave assured 
him that his signal had been seen, and that all was 
well. 


21 


Going Over 

Across the bows of the vessel darted the gray 
shape of a destroyer, P. 37, discharging depth bombs 
in the direction where the submarine had disap- 
peared. From the sky above two seaplanes were 
active in their operations. Billy was afraid, but he 
fought to keep all trace of it from his features. .He 
would have given a thousand dollars for the press 
of his father’s hand. But he had promised to act 
the man. So he kept a steady lip and did not even 
grip Sergeant McGiffon’s arm. 

The vessel still floated. It was possible that she 
might make land. Two destroyers detached them- 
selves from the convoy to give her their special 
attention. They signaled that oil and wreckage 
from the submarine gave positive evidence of its 
destruction. 

Darkness began to fall. The other vessels in the 
fleet faded into the distance. The sea became 
rougher. It was deemed safest to transfer the sol- 
diers from the transport to the destroyers by means 
of the boats. 

Billy continued to play the man. Even when he 
saw that one destroyer was to unload the port side 
and the other the starboard, thus putting him on a 
separate vessel from his father, he refused to give 
way to his distress. 


22 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

He sat very still in the bow of the big boat and 
watched his comrades of the 199th, new to the task, 
work hard with the great oars. The evening gloom 
was gathering fast, and he did not know what the 
darkness held for him. Would he ever see home 
again? Would he even see his dear father again? 
He bit his lips and clenched his fists to keep down 
the expression of his fears. 

But Billy Ransom had been charged to act the 
man, and as he fervently prayed to his heavenly 
Father for support, so he tried to act as he knew 
that his earthly father, in another boat not so very 
far away, would be acting. 

It was quite dark when their boatload, the very 
last, was safely transferred to the deck of the 
destroyer, and there followed many hours of tossing 
over a rough sea before they at last reached land 
and were allowed to disembark. 

But when Billy ran down the gangplank it was 
to rush into his father’s arms, and his joy was great 
enough fully to compensate for past terrors. 

‘‘ Did he act like a man ? ” asked Dr. Ransom. 

‘'As good a man as there is in the 199th,” re- 
plied Sergeant McGiffon. “ Billy can talk like a 
Frenchman, but when it comes to action, believe me, 
that boy Billy acts like a real American.” 



Billy sat very still in the bow of the big boat 

Page 22. 





f 



CHAPTER III 


SECRET SERVICE 

Safe in France, Billy Ransom was taken by his 
father direct to his sister in Paris. 

Madame Deschamps had a pleasant apartment on 
Rue de la Madeleine, and since this is almost in the 
heart of Paris, there was no difficulty in finding it. 

Madame Deschamps, who was more familiarly 
known to Billy as Aunt Ella, was expecting them 
and gave them a royal welcome. But her husband 
was not there to greet them. 

“ Henri has had many things to do for his coun- 
try right here in Paris,” she explained. ‘‘ He has 
been content to do them and leave the work at the 
front to younger men. But surgeons became so 
scarce that he felt he must go, and it is just one 
month since he left us to take charge of an ambu- 
lance at the Chateau d’Epernay.” 

Billy knew that the French speak of a field hos- 
pital as an ambulance, and that the work his uncle 

23 


24 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

had gone to do was important and strenuous work. 
But Billy was sorry to miss the genial French doc- 
tor whom he had learned to like so well during his 
visit to America. It was one of the hard things that 
had become a part of the War, this separation of 
friends and relatives. 

Fm hoping for a chance to go up there myself,” 
Aunt Ella told them. ‘‘Henri promised that if 
there was any possible chance he would work me 
in.” 

This was rather disquieting news for Dr. Ran- 
som, who had counted on the Deschamps home as 
headquarters for his boy, but Billy thought very 
little about it. He was old enough to look after 
himself. There would be plenty of places where he 
could make himself helpful. After all, he had 
crossed the sea to do something, not just to look on. 

Billy found even war-time Paris an amazing 
place. There were evidences of war in plenty, for 
the streets were filled with soldiers arrayed in so 
many different styles of uniforms that one won- 
dered how many Allied armies there were. Never- 
theless, there was tremendous activity apparent in 
business life. The big stores were thronged with 
people ; and the little stores, too, seemed to be awhirl 
with activity. 


Secret Service 


25 


There were people who spoke English well almost 
everywhere in Paris. But Billy would not allow 
himself to depend upon them. He made it his busi- 
ness to speak to the French in their own language, 
to do his buying in French stores, to think of his 
purchases in terms of French money. He went to 
a teacher for an hour every afternoon and was as- 
sured that he was making good progress. 

Billy did not find so many Boy Scouts here as he 
had seen in England, but discovered that his scout 
uniform was sufficiently familiar in France to excite 
no comment. When he visited Red Cross Head- 
quarters with his father he found there a great 
many scouts in uniform. They were acting as mes- 
sengers and porters chiefly, though some were doing 
the work of clerks. They were quite excited at see- 
ing an American Boy Scout. 

It happened that the sirens sounded the alarm for 
a German bombing attack while Billy was making 
his visit. The French boys carried him away to 
their shelter in a basement, at the top of which was 
a sign 

ABRIS 
30 Places 

He knew that the word ahri meant shelter and 
that the sign therefore indicated shelter for thirty 


26 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

people. Moreover, these signs were placarded at 
the entrance of every cellar or basement that might 
be expected to provide good shelter against the ex- 
plosion of bombs dropped by attacking airplanes. 
At first, whenever notice was received of such an 
attack, the alarm used to be spread by the fire 
departments racing through the streets. But by the 
time Billy reached Paris, this had given place to 
revolving megaphones placed in commanding posi- 
tions throughout the city, through which the alarm 
was sounded by the scream of a siren. 

This reminded Billy of the submarine attack, and 
he entertained his French comrades with the story 
while they waited in the ahri for the attack to termi- 
nate. 

Billy thought that if his Aunt Ella left the city 
and his father were sent away, he might find very 
useful occupation doing the same work as these 
French boys were doing at Red Cross Headquar- 
ters. But other things were to develop. 

Simultaneously with the order that sent Dr. Ran- 
som to Serbia for special duty came two letters 
from the 199th. One was from the Colonel for 
Dr. Ransom. The men had become friends on the 
voyage to France, and the Colonel felt quite at lib- 


Secret Service 27 

erty to ask the Doctor’s help. The other letter was 
from Sergeant McGiffon, and it was to Billy. 

The Colonel’s letter expressed the hope that Dr. 
Ransom could induce Red Cross Headquarters to 
assign him for temporary duty with the 199th. 

“ There are a great many things that you might 
do for us,” he wrote. ‘‘ For one thing, I am very 
much in need of some one who understands the 
ways and the language of these people. Here we 
are, in the Department of Charente-Inferieure, the 
very first American troops to be billeted here. We 
want to make a good showing, but we don’t seem 
to be getting along very well. There are differences 
arising every day; most of them about little things, 
but they may grow. A very good interpreter has 
been assigned to us — a Frenchman. But it isn’t 
like having one of my very own people who could 
get my viewpoint and give me the viewpoint of the 
French people.” 

Billy’s letter from Sergeant McGiffon was a 
strong second to the Colonel’s invitation. 

‘‘ I have been promoted to be Sergeant Major of 
Headquarters Company, Billy. That is how I know 
that the Colonel is asking your father to get himself 
sent here to Charente-Inferieure. I hope he’ll make 
it. If he can’t do it, why can’t he let you come, any- 


28 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

way? We’re in this training area for another 
month, at least, and you could have a gorgeous 
time. We want you to come and teach us French. 
Nobody else ever taught us like you did.” 

I wish you hadn’t been ordered to Serbia, 
father,” said Billy. “ I surely would have liked 
going to the 199th.” 

It would have been good, Billy, but we can’t 
choose what we want to do these days.” 

No, father, you can’t, at least. But why can’t 
I go to the 199th by myself ? Colonel Darrell would 
be glad to have me come, and you know what Ser- 
geant McGiffon would do for me.” 

Dr. Ransom did not reply at once. Billy took ad- 
vantage of his hesitation to press his arguments. 

‘‘Aunt Ella may be leaving any day to join Uncle 
Henri, you know, father. And if the 199th should 
be moved up, I can always come back to Paris and 
go to work with the Scouts at Red Cross Headquar- 
ters.” 

“ How do you know that you can, Billy ? ” 

“I asked Major Beamer yesterday, and he said 
they would be glad to have me.” 

So it happened that when the Paris-Bordeaux 
express left that very evening, it had on it Scout 
Billy Ransom, traveling very light, all of his pos- 


Secret Service 


29 


sessions in a musette bag which rested on his left 
hip and was supported by a broad strap over his 
right shoulder. He had been supplied by the Red 
Cross with an identification card and a pass in 
proper order, and in his pocket was a ticket to Pons, 
where the 199th maintained headquarters. 

On French railways it is the custom to pay a 
small sum in advance, usually one franc, for which 
any seat in a first-class carriage may be reserved. 
Dr. Ransom had made such a reservation for Billy. 
Scarcely had the train started, however, when a lady 
looked into the carriage, from the long aisle that 
extends the full length of the first-class coaches, 
seeking a seat. Billy was surprised to see that she 
received no attention. The compartment was for 
eight persons. There were two lieutenants of the 
French Army, a traveling man with his sample 
cases, a priest, a sailor, and an old couple who were 
none too used to travel. Billy was the only one who 
even looked at the lady. 

Everything is so crowded, and this aisle space, 
it is filled with the smoke of tobacco,’* she pleaded. 
“ If I might be permitted to place my bag on the 
floor and there seat myself.” 

Billy got to his feet without delay. Giving up 
one’s reserved room for an all-night journey is not 


30 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

exactly like giving up a seat in a street car, but he 
was an American and a scout ! 

“ My seat is at your service, madame,” he said. 

“A*h, but you are gracious ! ’’ said the lady. ‘‘ But 
you ? It may not be that you stand ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, ril get along,” said Billy. 

Non, non! ” protested the lady. And, as Billy’s 
seat was at the end one, they managed between them 
so that by using his musette bag* and the lady’s bag 
he was able to make for himself a seat on the floor. 
Some time during the night the other passengers left 
the train. Billy did not know when, but he did 
know that he awoke in the morning stretched full 
length on the comfortable cushions of the seats 
vacated by the oflicers. 

“ I leave you here,” said the lady. ‘‘ Your sta- 
tion is but half an hour’s ride. When you come to 
see me — as you must — inquire for Madame 
Gazin.” 

The first men that Billy saw as the train pulled 
into the little town of Pons were two of his old 
friends of the 199th, doing guard duty at the rail- 
way station. 

“ Headquarters isn’t very far,” said one. No 
place in this town is very far. This street is Rue 
Liberte. You go along it until it runs into a street 


Secret Service 


31 


running north and south, which is Rue Nationale. 
Go north on Rue Nationale until you see headquar- 
ters colors.” 

Sergeant McGiffon was just leaving headquarters 
as Billy came up. 

“Just in time for mess, Billy,” he greeted. “ Come 
right along. Some chow we get, I tell you ! What 
d’ye think we get to-day for first time in this coun- 
try? Eggs! But the Frenchies call ’em ‘ erfs.’ A 
great time we had gettin’ ’em ! All they want us to 
do is to pay four times what anything is worth.” 

“ This isn’t near the front. I don’t see why they 
should charge high prices,” said Billy. 

“ Only because they can, Billy. And they sure 
are doing it.” 

After breakfast word came that Billy was to go 
in to see the Colonel, who was busy shaving. 

“ Morning, Billy ! Did you read the letter I wrote 
to your father ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Father said to tell you how very sorry 
he was that he couldn’t come.” 

“ I thought perhaps he had sent you, instead.” 

“ No, sir. I came to visit Sergeant McGiffon.” 

“ But you wouldn’t mind doing a little work for 
us?” 

“ I’d be mighty glad to. Colonel.” 


32 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ Well, you can understand a lot of French, can’t 
you? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I can carry on a conversation with 
most any of them.” 

“ You know enough, then, so that if you should 
hear anything that would explain the little fusses 
the native people often have with our men, you’d be 
able to give me an idea of what it is all about.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, I think I would.” 

‘‘ Well, do what you can, Billy. There’s some- 
thing wrong somewhere. We have an interpreter, 
Monsieur Marson, and I’ve talked to the mayor 
through him, but we are no nearer straight than 
ever. It won’t do at all.” 

“ No, sir. I’ll try to find out what I can.” 

‘‘ Very well, Billy. Remember this is confiden- 
tial.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Until ten Billy put in the time renewing old 
acquaintances with the 199th. Then the mess officer 
picked him up and asked him to go shopping. 

They visited the market and went to several of 
the shops. 

“ It’s a funny thing,” said Billy, but the prices 
here are higher than in Paris.” 


Secret Service 33 

“You’ve noticed that, have you? ” said Lieuten- 
ant Grimes. “ So have we ! ” 

“ You wait here,” said Billy, “ and let me go 
around a little by myself.” 

He was gone almost an hour. 

“ They’re putting up a game on you,” he reported. 
“ Everybody in the market is in it. They have tick- 
ets on all the stuff with prices marked, but the 
French people pay just sixty per cent of the prices 
marked. I watched a good many of them, and then 
I bought some stuff myself and just handed up 
sixty per cent and it was all right.” 

“ So that’s the game, is it? If that interpreter 
Marson was here to tell us how to say it, I think 
we’d have to go around and talk some plain United 
States in French, to these people.” 

“ I’ll talk it for you,” offered Billy. 

“All right,” agreed the Lieutenant, “ but first of 
all we must report back to the Colonel. He may 
want some different action taken. This looks pretty 
serious.” 

When they reported to the Colonel he agreed that 
it was pretty serious. He sent for Lieutenant Ross, 
the Town Major, whose business it was to act as 
go-between with the town officials and the army, 
and surprised him with Billy’s revelations. 


34 Boy. Scouts on Special .Service 

“ What kind of Town Major are you, Lieuten- 
ant,” asked the Colonel, to let the army be cheated 
in this way? ” 

Pretty poor. I’ll admit,” said Lieutenant Ross. 
“ It’s because my French is too amateurish for the 
job. But now that Billy has discovered the trick 
for us, I suppose I can at least put a stop to it at 
once.” 

Don’t be in too' big a hurry,” said the Colonel. 

There is something at the bottom of this. I am 
willing to pay high prices for a few days longer, if 
it will help us find out just why the nigger was put 
into the woodpile.” 

‘‘We can get back anything that we are over- 
charged whenever we care to take the matter up 
with the French army officials,” suggested Lieuten- 
ant Ross. 

“ Yes, and until we have discovered what we 
want, we will keep this matter secret between us, 
except for giving it ter Captain Burnett, the Division 
Intelligence officer. We won’t even mention it to 
the interpreter. Meanwhile the 199th will go right 
on paying what those sharpers ask without a word 
of complaint. This is an official matter and not a 
subject either to be taken up with or set straight 
with a lot of petty shopkeepers.” 


Secret Service 


35 


“ Colonel Darrel,” said Billy, who was as pleased 
as he was excited over the discovery he had come 
upon so early in his stay at 199th headquarters, “ I 
hope you’ll let me help some more in this. I have 
an idea I think I would like to try out.” He eyed 
the Colonel hopefully. 

Better leave it to us, Billy,” said the Colonel. 

You’ve done your share and you’ve done it well. 
I have a notion that your conversational French and 
your little adventure of this morning will save us 
quite a little money. You can safely leave it to us, 
now, and it will receive attention all right. Why not 
come along and take dinner with us? ” 


CHAPTER IV 


ROONEY THE RASH 

Billy Ransom felt sure that he would have a 
glorious time in Pons with the 199th. They were his 
friends, every one of them, from the Colonel to the 
humblest private. Billy was offered the privilege of 
the officers’ mess, but he much preferred to eat with 
Sergeant McGiffon and the other men. They were 
nearer his own age and he could have better times 
with them. Besides, they were very anxious that 
he should teach them' French and he was glad to do 
it. Teaching what he knew to some one else helped 
him, too. 

Pons is not a very large town and had very few 
unoccupied buildings large enough to house even a 
single company. So the men of the regiment were 
billeted in squads and companies wherever a decent 
opening presented. 

Headquarters company, with which Billy had 
thrown in his fortunes, found a billet in the out- 

36 


37 


Rooney The Rash 

buildings of a farmhouse on the edge of town. The 
stone buildings were of massive construction, for 
they had been among the possessions of a French 
nobleman. But the neglect of a hundred years was 
very evident, and the base uses to which they had 
been put had effectually destroyed any ancient 
charm that might otherwise have lingered. 

Under the leadership of Sergeant McGiffon the 
men were doing wonders in cleaning and restoring 
the old buildings, at least putting them into such 
condition that they would serve for protection 
against the sun, rain, and wind. Billy was given a 
place in a quaint little stone building that had once 
served as a porter’s lodge, and it was here that he 
made the acquaintance of Sergeant Rooney. 

Rooney had not crossed with the 199th, but had 
been found at the Rest Camp at Cherbourg, and had 
been ordered on to 199th headquarters. 

Rooney had proved to be a very valuable addi- 
tion to the company. He was of a cheerful, reck- 
less disposition, doing things on impulse, but with a 
knack of doing them well. He was just a boy, only 
a few years older than Billy, but he had already 
been in action with the British. In cleaning up the 
old buildings and making them habitable he had 
been the life of the company. But perhaps his 


38 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

greatest popularity was aroused by the fact that he 
was a singer with a very pleasing voice, and was 
always willing to use it. 

Billy took to him at once, as did Sergeant McGif- 
fon, and since Rooney was very anxious to learn 
French, Billy began to teach him some French 
songs. 

Rooney did Billy a good turn at the very begin- 
ning of their acquaintance. It was a warm after- 
noon and the men had obtained permission to swim 
in the river that ran by the farm. It was a goodly 
stream, both wide and deep, and had a swift cur- 
rent. Billy was the first to enter the river, and fool- 
ishly decided not to wait for the others. He was a 
good swimmer, so without hesitation he dived in 
and swam with the current. It was not until he 
tried to get out of it that he discovered how very 
difficult it was. He fought it several minutes, too 
proud to call for help, and was almost exhausted 
when Rooney noticed him. The big boy was in the 
water in a second, swimming toward him with 
strong, steady, overhand strokes, and with an assur- 
ance that gave Billy added strength. When Rooney 
reached Billy, a very little assistance was enough. 

When they reached the bank again, Rooney burst 
into violent, almost uncontrollable laughter. 


39 


Rooney The Rash 

‘‘What’s so funny?” demanded Billy, his feel-’ 
ings a little ruffled. “ I don’t see anything funny in 
my nearly drowning.” 

“ Oh, it isn’t that ! ” howled Rooney. “ It isn’t 
you at all ; I’m laughing at myself.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Because I’m it. Anything you like. Anything 
you can think up to call me. Do you know how to 
convert a ninety-dollar Hamilton watch into a 
Waterbury? ” 

“No! Who would try to do such a foolish 
thing? ” 

“Just me. I’ve done it. I had on my good wrist 
watch that my sister nearly went bankrupt to get for 
me, and you saw how I made it into a Waterbury. 
That’s what comes of going to bed without undress- 
ing. I’m so used to wearing that watch I forgot to 
take it off, and now it’s water-buried.” 

“ Oh, you’ve spoiled your watch ! ” exclaimed 
Billy. “ I’ll give you mine. You really must take 
it.” 

“ I guess not ! ” 

“ Yes, but you wouldn’t have jumped in with that 
watch on if you hadn’t been in such a hurry to get 
to me. You’ll have to take mine.” 

“ Not even the loan of it, Billy. I’ve just got to 


40 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

have a watch, but it won’t be yours. I think if I 
rush this right oif to a repair shop they’ll be able to 
clean up its carburetor and put in new spark, plugs. 
What do they call a watchmaker in France? ” 

They call him a horloger. I don’t think I’ve 
seen a sign of one in Pons.” 

Then I’ll have to go to Saintes. Quite some 
town, Saintes is; there must be all of twenty-thou- 
sand people there.” 

Billy thought no more about the conversation 
until evening. Retreat sounded. Billy watched the 
companies form for retreat, heard the various com- 
pany officers report to the officer of the day, saw the 
men stand at parade rest while retreat was sounded, 
and come to attention and stand at salute, facing 
the music, as the regimental band sounded to the 
color.” It was always an impressive ceremony to 
Billy, and usually left him in a mood of exalted 
patriotism. 

It was evident that Sergeant McGiffon was in no 
such mood after the ceremony. He came into the 
little hut stamping his feet in marked impatience. 
What’s the matter, Sarge? ” asked Billy. 

“ Plenty! ” responded the sergeant. ‘‘ That idiot 
Rooney’s trying his best to get ‘ busted 
What do you mean by * busted ’ ? ” 


Rooney The Rash 4 1 

“Reduced. It’s the term commonly used in the 
army when a noncom gets set back to private.” 

“ Why should Rooney be reduced? ” 

“A. W. O. L. I suppose you know that that 
means ‘ absent without leave’.” 

“ Yes, I know that much ; but why is Rooney 
A. W. O. L., and why would he get ‘ busted ’ for 
such a common failing? ” 

“ That’s it. Just because it has been so common. 
When the regiment first landed the men were wild 
to see the country. The officers thought it was 
natural enough, so they were pretty easy. Instead 
of appreciating this, the boys took advantage of it. 
So a week ago the Colonel cut off all passes for ten 
days and ordered company commanders to prefer 
charges in summary court against all men A. W. 
O. L.” 

“ So that makes it pretty serious for Rooney ? ” 

“ It surely does. You know if a private is hauled 
up before the Summary Court officer, he probably 
gets a small stoppage of pay and so many days’ con- 
finement to the regimental area, with hard labor. 
That usually means K. P. You know what K. P. 
is, Billy?” 

“ Yes ; it stands for ‘ kitchen police ’, which means 
that a man does all the dirty work of the kitchen.” 


42 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘^Well, lots of fellows don’t mind K. P. a bit. 
It has to be done every day by some one. Usually 
there’s a regular detail on the job, so a man doing 

K. P. always has good company. But with a ser- 
geant it is different. According to army regula- 
tions, a sergeant can’t be put on hard labor. First 
of all he has to be reduced to the ranks. 

Rooney would hate that,” continued McGiffon. 
‘^And that’s why I’m so mad at his being A. W. O. 

L. I’ve got to report him, and what follows will 
be plenty.” 

‘‘ You’re obliged to report him, are you? ” 

Sure. I’m Sergeant Major and I don’t play 
any favorites.” 

“ No, of course you don’t,” said Billy. “ But 
suppose Rooney had a good excuse ? ” 

That doesn’t alter the fact of his being A. W. O. 
L. If he’s got a good excuse he can go to his C. O. 
and have the charge removed, that’s all. But I 
know he hasn’t any. He wanted to go to Saintes 
and he couldn’t get a pass, so he went anyway.” 

‘‘ I know something about his trip to Saintes,” 
explained Billy. ‘‘ It’s all my fault.” 

“ How is it your fault? ” 

‘‘ Why, he jumped in the river this afternoon to 
help me. I was in a rather bad fix, and he didn’t 


43 


Rooney The Rash 

even stop to take off his wrist watch before he came 
out to me. He had to get it to the watchmaker 
right away, and since he couldn’t get a pass, he went 
without one.” 

I suppose he thinks that is a reasonable excuse,” 
sputtered McGiffon. He may get by on it if he 
gets in before taps. But, if not, I pity him.” 

Billy ate his supper in a half-hearted fashion. He 
was very much disturbed about Rooney. 

I’m going up to the Q. M.,” said Sergeant 
McGiffon after supper. There’s a supply truck 
that makes regular trips between here and Saintes, 
and maybe Rooney will come in on that.” 

I’ll go along,” offered Billy. I’m responsible 
for this trouble of Rooney’s.” 

You’ll have a busy time if you make yourself 
responsible for all Rooney’s troubles,” McGiffon 
assured him. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.” 

It was growing dark when the supply truck 
arrived at the Q. M. depot. Rooney was not a 
passenger. 

“ He isn’t with us,” said the driver. “ But say. 
I’ll reckon he’s the guy that got into trouble over 
there. It was something about a watch, and as 
near as I can make out, he’s going to spend some 
time in the French calaboose for it.” 


44 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ You mean he has been arrested ? 

That^s the way I heard it. There’s an R. T. O. 
sergeant at Saintes who speaks some French, and he 
told me about it.” 

Billy looked at McGiffon in inquiring perplexity. 
Sergeant McGiffon threw up both hands. 

That settles Rooney ! ” he said despairingly. 

‘‘ No, it doesn’t,” said Billy. “ I’m sure Rooney 
hasn’t done anything bad enough for jail. I’m 
going to see about it. When does this truck go 
back.” 

‘'Just as soon as it’s loaded,” said the driver. 

" I’m going to Saintes on this truck,” said Billy. 

“ Where will you stay to-night? ” asked Sergeant 
McGiffon. " It’s getting dark right now. It’s 
eighteen kilometers to Saintes, which is mighty nigh 
to being twelve of our miles. This truck doesn’t 
come back here, and twelve miles is some walk.” 

" It makes no difference,” insisted Billy. “ I’d go 
if it were twenty miles. Rooney got into this 
trouble from doing me a good turn. He is there 
among a lot of people that he can’t understand. I 
can, and it’s up to me to help him out.” 

“ Have your own way,” said the Sergeant. “ But 
keep out of trouble yourself. Say, take this twenty- 
franc note — you may need it.” 


Rooney The Rash 45 

“ No, thanks, I have money,” said Billy, mount- 
ing the truck. 

In spite of the jolting truck, riding through the 
beautiful country as evening was falling, would 
have made Billy very happy had he not been dis- 
turbed about Rooney. There was much to see, and 
he looked about him with appreciative eyes. Dark- 
ness came upon them rapidly. But as the main 
roads in France are almost all hard, good speed can 
be made even by heavy trucks, and it was not very 
long until they drove into Saintes. 

‘‘ Where shall I let you off ? ” asked the driver. 

‘‘If you can go by the Hotel Messageries, let me 
get off there,’ ^ said Billy. “ I know where I want to 
go when I get there.” 

During the ride Billy had thought of the lady 
whom he had been able to serve on the journey from 
Paris. She had told him that she lived at a certain 
number on Rue Saint Pierre, and had given him 
directions for finding it from Hotel Messageries. 
Billy had determined to call upon her and ask for 
assistance for Rooney. 

One thing he had not reckoned with — French 
towns in war time are absolutely dark. Very early 
in the evening the streets are quite deserted. So the 
boy had fairly to grope his way along. All of his 


46 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

scout training had to be called into play. At last 
there rose before him in the darkness the house that 
must be the one sought. 

An old-fashioned knocker on the door gave him 
help in announcing himself. The fierce barking of 
a dog inside the house sent some qualms into Billy’s 
stomach. After a short wait, a light appeared in 
the hall, and as the door was cautiously opened a 
few inches, the head of the barking dog was thrust 
out as the animal made frantic efforts to get into 
the street. But above the dog, and holding him in 
restraint, Billy saw the figure of the very lady he 
sought. 

It is your Boy Scout friend of the train,” Billy 
explained eagerly. 

A sharp word of command quieted the dog at 
once, and the lady threw wide her door and invited 
Billy to enter, with smiles and gracious inquiries as 
to his welfare. 

You have come to visit us? ” she inquired. 

No, madame,” replied Billy, “ I have a comrade 
in trouble, and I have come to ask your help.” 

It seemed that Billy had come to the right place, 
for the lady was the sister of the mayor of Saintes. 
She had lived in the city all of her life and knew all 
of the city officials. 


47 


Rooney The Rash 

“ You will stay at my home to-night/’ she said 

and to-morrow I will see my brother, the mayor, 
and we will see what we can do for your friend.” 

“ Thank you very much,” replied Billy, but it is 
to-night that I want it done.” 

“ Oh, I fear that is impossible,” said the lady. 
‘‘ To-night it is already late. The prison, it is closed. 
The officials will not be there.” 

‘‘ But, madame, I must get him to-night,” pleaded 
Billy. ‘‘ If I do not, he will be in no end of trouble. 
He will be reduced to the ranks. Won’t you see 
your brother, the mayor, to-night?'” 

“ You Americans ! ” the lady exclaimed. ** You 
never can wait! But perhaps for you my brother 
will act.” 

It was but a few steps to the mayor’s house. He 
received his sister and Billy with evident pleasure, 
but when he heard their errand he became very 
grave. 

It is not simple, this thing,” he said. I know 
of the case. This young soldier is charged with 
theft, and we cannot allow such things. He en- 
ters one of our shops. He lays down a water- 
soaked watch. He looks around. He sees a watch 
that suits his eye. He reaches over and takes it. 


48 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

offering for it no money. It is theft. We cannot 
let it go unpunished.^’ 

Billy was perplexed. He knew that Rooney was 
no thief, but the story certainly sounded bad. Then 
the explanation struck him. 

It is not a theft,” he explained. ‘‘ It is because 
of a custom in many parts of America. The watch- 
maker who is repairing a watch allows a customer 
to take one to use while repairs are being made. 
Rooney’s watch was valuable and he thought your 
watchmaker would feel protected.” 

** Droll custom, indeed ! ” declared the mayor. 

You can prove the matter,” argued Billy. 
‘‘ Your sister speaks English. Let her go and ask 
him questions.” 

‘‘Agreed ! ” said the mayor. 

As they approached the city prison, they saw a 
man in uniform coming away. They were still in 
the darkness, but his form was clearly shown by 
the lights from the open door of the entrance, and 
Billy recognized him as Marson, the official inter- 
preter of the 199th. 

“ Wonder what he is doing here? ” he said. 

“ I do not know,” said the lady, as if the question 
had been addressed to her. “ I do not like him. He 
is not good.” 


Rooney The Rash 49 

Inside the jail, in a narrow cell, they found 
Rooney, harsh and defiant. 

“ IVe come to get you out, Sarge,” said Billy. 
“ But first of all the lady is to ask you some ques- 
tions, and all you have to do is to answer them hon- 
estly.’’ 

Rooney turned eagerly to the lady, and it was 
evident that she was at once favorably impressed. 
His answers to her questions bore out Billy’s state- 
ment entirely. 

** Very well,” said the mayor, he shall go. It is 
no doubt lucky that you came, for the official inter- 
preter, who is French, of course, was here, and he 
did not know of such a custom. He said we should 
hold the young soldier in jail.” 

“ He is not good ; I tell you he is not good, that 
interpreter,” again said the lady. 

You’ve got to get back by ‘ taps,’ Sarge,” said 
Billy. There’s a motor cycle at this station. The 
lady has arranged for you to take it for to-night. 
Take this note to the Colonel from me, and it will 
straighten things up some. He’ll send you back 
to-morrow with the machine. I’m on the trail of 
something.” 


CHAPTER V 


A SIMPLE FRENCH LADY 

Before Billy Ransom had been in Saintes a full 
day he made up his mind that it was the most 
interesting town in France. But before another night 
had passed he believed it to be the most dangerous. 
He had come to Saintes to help Sergeant Rooney 
out of a French jail, that is, with help from Madame 
Gazin. That matter was disposed of, and the reck- 
less Irishman was once more at large. Meanwhile 
Billy stayed on with the French lady. 

Billy’s adventures began early in the morning, as 
soon as he rose from the old-fashioned but comfort- 
able bed in the front room of Madame Gazin’s third 
floor. He stepped to his window to look out, and 
there, just across the narrow street, in the act of 
pushing open the shutters of his window, was Mon- 
sieur Marson, the French interpreter of the 199th. 

Billy stepped hastily back out of range. He did 
not like this man. He felt suspicious of him. Why 
60 


51 


A Simple French Lady 

had he allowed the merchants of Pons to impose on 
the 199th? Billy felt that this question required an 
answer. 

So suspicious was he of M. Marson that he stood 
behind his own curtains and peered across into the 
interpreter's room. It was an east room and the 
sun's rays helped Billy to see inside very clearly. 
So he stopped his dressing every few minutes to see 
what M. Marson was doing. 

There was nothing suspicious in the fact that M. 
Marson chose to write some remarks in a long, thin 
notebook. But the cautious way in which he con- 
cealed this book in his coat was a different matter. 
There seemed to be a special pocket for it. It was 
an inside pocket, of course, but it was neither in the 
usual location in the breast, nor in the tail of the 
coat. Billy saw that the man raised the bottom of 
the coat, turned up the lining, and found his pocket 
inside the front seam. 

“ That's interesting," muttered Billy. “ I'd give 
a nickel to see that notebook ! " 

There was a great deal to see that morning. 
Saintes is a wonderful old town, with a cathedral 
over a thousand years old, the ruins of a Roman 
arena more than two thousand years old, and some 


52 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

inhabitants who seemed old enough to be identified 
with the town’s early days. 

But in all his sight-seeing Billy kept thinking of 
that notebook. So it was with great relief that, 
when examining the ancient ruins of the arena, he 
came upon Captain Burnett, the Division Intelligence 
Officer. 

“ Hello, Captain ! ” he cried. ‘‘ I’m certainly glad 
to see you. I believe I need your help.” 

“ I believe you do or will, Billy,” replied the Cap- 
tain. “ The Colonel sent me the note you sent by 
Sergeant Rooney last night, so I had Rooney bring 
me over this morning. What more have you found 
out?” 

‘‘ Nothing definite, but I’ve guessed a lot. I’m 
guessing that the interpreter, Marson, is up to no 
good.” 

“ It’s a good guess, Billy. I’ve done some inquir- 
ing at Pons. Marson knew the tradesmen were 
overcharging us, and he encouraged it.” 

He did ! ” exclaimed Billy. 

“ Yes. He told the mayor that the rich, gener- 
ous Americans expected to pay high prices and were 
glad to help out the poor, suffering French by 
doing so. The only thing was to be sure to make 
the high prices uniform.” 


53 


A Simple French Lady 

** What’s the explanation? ” 

“ Give me your ideas, Billy. You’ve done some 
work on this; tell me what you think.” 

‘‘ Well, I have thought of two things. First I 
thought it was money. Perhaps he was to be paid a 
percentage on the overcharges. But lately I have 
another idea.” 

“ I’m waiting for it, Billy.” 

‘‘ Well, last night I discovered that instead of 
getting Rooney out of jail, this man wanted them 
to keep him in. There’s only one conclusion; he is 
trying to brew trouble between our troops and the 
natives here.-” 

‘‘ But why would a Frenchman be doing that, 
Billy?” 

‘‘How long has he been a Frenchman?” asked 
Billy shrewdly. 

Captain Burnett smiled. “ Good boy, Billy. 
We’re working on the same track. We’ll keep an 
eye on that man.” 

“ I know where he is,” said Billy. He told Cap- 
tain Burnett about his discoveries of the early 
morning. 

“ I’d like to get that notebook without his knowl- 
edge,” said the Captain. 

“ I’ll try to think up a way,” Billy promised. 


54 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ So will I,” said the Captain. “ Don’t do any- 
thing rash ; or you may spoil everything.” 

Where can I find Sergeant Rooney ? ” asked 
Billy. 

“In the courtyard of the Hotel Messageries. 
You’ll be glad to know that the Colonel has over- 
looked his A. W. O. L. this time.” 

“ I surely am glad,” replied Billy. “ Sergeant 
Rooney is one of my best friends. As soon as I’m 
through looking at these curiosities, I’ll go find 
him.” 

“All right. Don’t do anything to get into trouble 
with that man, Marson.” 

“ I won’t. Why not just arrest him and search 
him?” 

“Too crude, Billy. We prefer not to arrest such 
fellows. When we know their characters they can 
do us no harm, and sometimes we can manage to get 
them to spread information that will do us a lot of 
good.” 

“ I see,” said Billy. “Anything that is done must 
be done quietly.” 

It was almost noon when Billy returned to 
Madame Gazin’s house. She met him at the door 
with an apology. 

“ So sorry, my scout,” she said, “ but we have 


55 


A Simple French Lady 

had to change your room. We have moved you 
just across the hall. It happens that disease broke 
out in the house of our neighbor across the street. 
It is of a contagion. The house is under quarantine. 
Their lodger, M. Marson, who is of you an acquain- 
tance, must move. We must give him room. Que 
voules-vous! Cest la guerre/* 

Billy’s first thought was that this might turn out 
to be a lucky accident. As he went up to his new 
room, another view struck him. 

‘‘Accident ! ” he thought. “ This is an accident 
created by Captain Burnett and the secret service. 
Little does this good woman know for what pur- 
pose her house is being used ! This man is where he 
can be watched now, and I am the one to watch 
him.” 

As soon as he had washed, Billy went down- 
stairs again. 

“ Dinner will be at one o’clock,” Madame Gazin 
told him. 

“Won’t you please excuse me from dinner?” 
asked Billy. “ I am to meet my friend. Sergeant 
Rooney, and I will have lunch with him.” 

But Madame Gazin would hear no word of Billy 
going out without eating. Instead she prepared for 


56 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

him a very nice luncheon that he ate in her immacu- 
late kitchen. 

He was still in his room getting ready to go out 
when he heard M. Marson leave the room, across the 
hall and go downstairs. 

‘‘ There’s my chance now ! ” he thought. 

He darted across the hall and into the bedroom 
and stood for a moment making a rapid survey. Of 
course the coat was not there, but he could easily 
make up his mind where it would hang when M. 
Marson was asleep. There was no door except that 
leading into the hall. No doubt this would be 
securely locked at night, but Billy was prepared for 
this. He had provided himself with some wax, and 
with this he took an impression from which he 
might get a key made that would admit him that 
night. Then he would get the notebook while Mar- 
son slept. 

This was the first time Billy had ever done work 
of this kind, and he was a trifle nervous. But after 
all he felt that he was doing a pretty good job. He 
left the room presently, for he must be very careful 
not to be discovered by M. Marson. 

“ I suppose that man Marson thinks himself 
pretty clever,” he said to himself. ‘‘ He doesn’t 
know that the Intelligence Division of the A. E. F. 


57 


A Simple French Lady 

is on his trail. He doesn’t know, either, that Billy 
Ransom is right in the same house with him, and 
wide awake.” 

Billy was beginning to feel that this Billy Ran- 
som person was quite a detective. When he left the 
house he stole quietly down the back stairway and 
through the kitchen. 

‘‘ Don’t tell M. Marson that I am staying here,” 
he instructed Madame Gazin. 

‘‘ Not tell him! ” exclaimed the lady. ‘‘And why 
would you not want the poor gentleman to know ? ” 

This quite decided Billy. He had rather debated 
the advisability of asking her fer a spare key to M. 
Marson’ s room instead of getting one made. But 
she was evidently too simple to confide in. 

“ You won’t mind if I don’t tell you,” he replied. 
“Just don’t tell him about my being here, just to 
oblige me.” 

Madame Gazin laughed at the seriousness of her 
scout, but she agreed. 

“ She little knows what is at stake,” thought 
Billy. “ She is a simple French lady who can hardly 
grasp the big issues of the War. Perhaps when it 
is all over I can explain this thing to her.” 

In going near the Hotel Messageries to search for 


58 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

a locksmith, Billy met Sergeant Rooney just get- 
ting out his motor cycle. 

‘'Just in time, Billy! ” he cried. “ I’m going to 
Bordeaux for Captain Burnett. You may ride in 
the side car.” 

Billy hesitated. It was a great temptation. 
“ When will you get back,” he asked. 

“ Not later than nine o’clock, maybe earlier. I 
ought to make it in three hours each way.” 

“ Let me step into that shop to order a key made, 
and I’ll go,” agreed Billy. 

It was the most perfect ride Billy had ever en- 
joyed. The French national highways were like 
boulevards. The quaint villages were like beauti- 
fully set pictures. There was no sign that a war 
was raging, except as one noticed the absence of 
young men, and the way in which oxen were doing 
the work of horses. 

They reached Bordeaux shortly before four 
o’clock. The boys were entranced with the bustle and 
rush of this place, the busiest seaport in France. 
Under the guidance of the military police they had 
no trouble in finding their way, and before five 
o’clock they were again riding toward Saintes. 

All went well on the return journey until fhey 
were within sight of the lights of Saintes. Then 


59 


A Simple French Lady 

from a sudden turn of the road there came bearing 
down upon them, at terrific speed, a glaring one- 
eyed monster. It was a military car with one head- 
light gone, and it was sweeping along at fifty miles 
an hour on the wrong side of the road. 

Rooney tried to steer clear, but he had scant 
notice. The side car and the near fender of the 
automobile collided. There was a crash as the 
motor cycle and side car were thrown into the ditch, 
while the one-eyed monster raced on to Bordeaux as 
if nothing had happened. 

A long time after, Billy came dimly to himself in 
a little farmhouse. A surgeon was bending over 
him. He gave the boy a jab with a hypodermic 
syringe and commanded, ‘‘ Go to sleep, now. You’re 
all right.” 

Protesting, but unable to withstand the drug, 
Billy obeyed. All the time that he slept he was con- 
scious that something was wrong. He was due at 
some place to perform some duty. He could not 
recall it, but he knew that it was something impor- 
tant. He struggled to awaken. 

At last he did awaken. Sergeant Rooney was 
bending over him, trying to hold him in bed. 

‘‘Lie down, Billy!” he ordered. “You’ll do 
yourself harm fighting like that. Lie down.” 


60 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Let me up, Sarge! IVe got something awfully 
important I must do to-night/’ 

‘‘ The night’s gone, Billy ; it’s morning. Captain 
Burnett is coming here. Stay quiet till he cbmes.” 

Billy lay back a trifle exhausted. Very soon Cap- 
tain Burnett came. 

I’ve made an awful mess of things. Captain,” 
confessed Billy. “ I reckon you depended on me to 
get that notebook last night, and here I’ve been lying 
unconscious.” 

Never mind, Billy,” said the Captain. 

“ But I may never get such a chance again ! I 
wonder how long Marson will stay? ” 

“ He’s gone,” said the Captain. 

Gone 1 ” exclaimed Billy in dismay. He turned 
his face to the wall in disgust. 

“ Look here, Billy,” said Captain Burnett, '' take 
a look at this.” 

Billy turned slowly over. Before his gaze the 
Captain held open a long, thin notebook. 

Read it,” he said. 

I can’t,” said Billy, “ but I know what it is — 
it’s German script.” 

“ So it is,” agreed the Captain. 

I was foolish,” admitted Billy. I supposed 
you needed my help, but I might have known that 


A Simple French Lady 61 

you would get what you wanted whether I helped 
or not/’ 

“ Fd like to accept the compliment, Billy, but the 
fact is I didn’t do anything. There was a smarter 
person than either one of us at work.” 

“ Smarter than you? ” 

“ I should say so, Billy ! After all, you can claim 
more credit than I. It was the good turn that you 
did to the lady in the railroad carriage that drew 
her attention to our affairs. Once she spotted M. 
Marson, he was as good as settled.” 

You don’t mean Madame Gazin!” cried Billy. 

That simple French lady? ” 

‘‘ The very same, Billy. That simple French lady 
is one of the most brilliant operators of the Secret 
Service of France.” 

‘‘Good night!” said Billy; and this time he 
turned over with a mind at ease to try to catch up 
on lost sleep. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SQUELETTE 

The day after the accident Billy slept most ‘'of the 
forenoon, and in the afternoon Captain Burnett 
took him back to Pons and placed him in the care 
of the regimental surgeon. 

Billy insisted that he felt pretty well, but evidently 
Captain Burnett and Sergeant Rooney had told such 
tales of the way in which he had been placed hors de 
combat as to give the surgeon some alarm. 

Fm afraid to take any risks with you, Billy,” he 
announced. I don’t know what your father would 
say to me if I allowed anything to go wrong with 
you for lack of attention.” 

'' Father is in Serbia,” said Billy. 

I know it,” responded the doctor. That’s why 
I’ve got to be more careful with you than ever. 
Now there are one or two things about your little 
accident that worry me.” 


63 


“The Squelette” 63 

“One or two of them worried me, too, for a 
time,” confessed Billy, “ but Fm' all right now.” 

“ Fm not so sure, Billy. You see you suffered an 
undoubted concussion.” 

“ Maybe I did,” agreed Billy. “ Though I didn^t 
know it, nor anything else for quite a while.” 

“ Exactly. And, you see, I find on using my 
opthalmoscope that your optic disks don’t look 
right. Fm afraid to let you stay on here, Billy. I 
want to send you to some hospital where they can 
take an X-ray of your cranium, and where they are 
all equipped to do anyth^ necessary.” 

“ You’re the doctor,” said Billy slangily, “ but if 
you leave it to me, I would rather stay here with the 
199th.” 

“ Paris is the place for you, just now, Billy.” 

“ Fd rather not go to Paris. My aunt, Madame 
Deschamps, would be all upset about me, and would 
be writing my father and mother.” 

“ Go to Bordeaux then. It is only a couple of 
hours’ journey from here, and it has good hos- 
pitals.” 

“ I don’t know a single person at Bordeaux.” 

“That will not make any difference. I’ll give 
you a note to Major Young, who is in charge of the 


64 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

surgical service for American troops there. He’ll 
look after you.” 

So that very afternoon Billy boarded the train 
for Bordeaux and found his way to the big build- 
ing used as headquarters for American troops. 

Billy inquired for Major Young. After a rather 
long wait word came back to him that Major Young 
had left the city, having been transferred to service 
elsewhere. So Billy kept his letter in his pocket and 
went to regular ** sick call.” 

“ We’ll have to send you to a French hospital,” 
said the young medical officer. ‘‘We have so many 
seriously wounded men that all of our beds are 
reserved for them and the walking cases must go to 
the French. When our new hospitals at Beau 
Desert get finished we’ll have plenty of room.” 

This was not very good news to Billy. So long 
as he was with his own people he felt himself safe, 
but to go to a French hospital to be cared for wholly 
by the French was a blow to him, notwithstanding 
his knowledge of the language and ways of the 
people. He felt that he was being cut off from his 
own people. For the first time since leaving Amer- 
ica, Billy Ransom felt homesick and bereft. 

He was a true scout so he made no protest at the 
Captain’s decision. But while he stood at a desig- 


‘The Squelette’’ 


65 


nated place with three French ‘‘ poilus ” waiting for 
the ambulance that was to take him to the French 
hospital, poor Billy really did feel dizzy, sick, and 
comfortless, and he was obliged to use his khaki 
handkerchief to mop the tears that would overflow 
in spite of his resistance. 

Pauvre enfant!'' remarked one of the French- 
men. Un joli gar con. II est trh jeune." 

“ Not so very, either,’’ Billy surprised them by 
replying in very good French. Fm old enough to 
know better.” 

“Brave boy!” said the Frenchman, patting him 
affectionately on the shoulder. “ We go to a beau- 
tiful place. You will love it. Here’s the bus. You 
get in first.” 

The hospital was an old convent. Every one of 
its spacious rooms was crowded with beds, just aisle 
space being left between. Billy would have found 
it hard to understand the Frenchman’s “beautiful 
place ” had he not remembered that the soldier was 
just back from the desolation of war and the squalor 
of the trenches. Little wonder that the light hall, 
the white, firm beds, the sight of peaceful comrades 
instead of savage foes, made for him indeed a scene 
of paradise. 

Billy himself was put to rest in one of the clean, 


66 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

white beds, and because of the strain of the journey 
and the reaction from the excitement, he went to 
sleep and did not awaken until late afternoon. 

When he awoke he saw sitting on the foot of his 
bed the long figure of a remarkably skinny man. As 
he was not in uniform, Billy supposed him to be a 
French soldier, and greeted him in French. But as 
soon as he found that Billy was awake, the visitor 
began to talk in a tongue that no Frenchman ever 
used. 

Say, I been waiting two hours for you to come 
out o’ your stupor so I could get you to talk United 
States at me. Don’t start that Frog stuff. I get 
it all day long, an’ all I know is, ‘ Wee-wee ’.” 

Shake ! ” said Billy. ‘‘ I’m as glad to see you 
as you are to see me. How do you like it here ? ” 

‘^About as much as I liked sour pickles while I 
had the mumps. Everything sets me teeth on edge. 
They oughta send me back to the front. The way 
I feel now, I sure could bite the heads off a whole 
army o’ them Huns.” 

‘Just so you don’t bite me,” said Billy, who felt 
that this new friend’s bite was chiefly bark. ‘‘ Get 
pretty good grub here? ” 

Oh, pretty good for such as can eat it ! I bin 


“The Squelette” 67 

gassed, and everythin’ in the world has that there 
chlorine in it now.” 

“ Is that why you’re so thin? ” 

‘‘ Partly. But I never was no heavy-weight. 
That ain’t no reason why these here Frogs should 
call me names." 

How do you know they call you names ? ” 

“ I can hear, I reckon. Very fust day I got here 
that nurse in the corner pointed me out to another 
one and said somethin’ about ' squelette/ I want 
her to understand I’m no squelette 
“ What else do they call you? ” 

“ Oh, fdntome and spectre. I don’t mind that so 
much, but I don’t like nobody calling me a 'squel- 
ette ’.” 

“ It means ' skeleton explained Billy. “ I think 
they do it because they feel sorry for you. They’re 
sorry because you’ve been gassed.” 

That ain’t no way to show sympathy. They 
make me mad. I’ve had three fights already, an’ 
I’ll fight the whole bunch if they push me too far.” 

" I wouldn’t suppose you could fight anybody,” 
said Billy appraisingly. “ You look so frail I think 
I could fight you myself. How did your fights come 
out?” 


68 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

They run away. None of ’em wouldn’t stand 
up to me.” 

‘‘ That was clever of them, and perhaps kind, 
too,” said Billy. 

“ Quit kiddin’,” said the skeleton. I don’t 
expect nothing like that from you. What I want to 
see you about come to me soon as I heard you was 
American. You speak their lingo. Let’s both cut 
away from here. This ain’t no place for free-born 
American citizens. We can both walk. Let’s go! ” 
“ Not I,” replied Billy. I was sent here for 
X-ray examination, and I’m going to stay until 
they’re through with me.” 

“ How come anybody has sech a grudge agin a 
kid like you, thet they’d send you here? ” 

Billy laughed. ‘‘ No grudge about it,” he said. 
‘^Don’t you know that the French have very skilful 
surgeons? Don’t you know that they are very 
clever in X-ray work? Don’t you know that our 
great Dr. Carrel is French? ” 

‘‘No, I don’t know nothing about none of ’em. 
All I know is I can’t understand all this jabber, jab- 
ber around me day and night. And I’m not going 
to allow nobody to call me ‘ Squelette \ I want to 
get out of here.” 


“The Squelette” 69 

“ I wouldn’t like to have you leave here just 
now,” said Billy. 

'‘Why wouldn’t ye?” asked the thin man, 
amazed. 

I don’t believe you’d leave a very good impres- 
sion behind you,” said Billy thoughtfully. " The 
people in this hospital judge America by us, and I’m 
afraid you haven’t been very chummy with them.” 

‘‘ I sure ain’t bin,” said the skeleton emphatically. 

I’m going to help you get that way,” said Billy. 

I mustn’t get out of bed until the nurse comes, so 
let’s play checkers.” 

From the nurse and the patients Billy soon 
learned that the thin man, whose name was Jenkins, 
was very heartily disliked, and that the whole ward 
would be glad to get rid of him. If he was an 
American soldier, what good would American sol- 
diers be to France? 

Billy was obliged to wait his turn for the X-ray 
picture. After that there was some delay about 
developing the plate, so that he stayed long enough 
to begin to feel at home, and to change the senti- 
ment of the patients toward American soldiers. He 
took Jenkins with him about the ward, and by acting 
as interpreter, tried to bring about a better under- 
standing. 


70 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

One evening a fresh batch of seriously wounded 
men came down from a camp hospital up the line 
and many convalescent cases were moved out to the 
convalescent camp, in order to provide beds. Billy 
went to bed very quietly that night because he knew 
that the man just put into bed on his left was a seri- 
ously wounded man, tired from his long journey. 
Jenkins, on his right, who was always inclined to be 
noisy, was sharply reprimanded by the infirmiere. 
He went to bed very sulky, and the old patients still 
remaining made many uncomplimentary remarks 
about ‘‘ le squelette 

Billy was rather slow about getting to sleep. The 
changes had excited him ; also the disturbance about 
Jenkins troubled him. He lay awake a good while, 
and when he did drop off, it was not to his custo- 
mary sound sleep. 

He awoke with a feeling that there was a noise 
that ought to be stopped. At first he thought he 
was at home and that a leaky faucet in the bathroom 
was making the steady drip. 

He recalled his location and began to look around 
the ward, which was illuminated only by the dim 
half-light customary at night. 

He still heard that drip — drip — drip. 

It could not be a water faucet, for the water was 


“The Squelette” 71 

at the other end of the long hall. This noise was 
right at hand. It was on his left. It was 

The solution came to him like a flash. He looked 
across to the bed on his left and with a sudden sink- 
ing feeling he saw that blood had already collected 
in a pool on the floor. 

Without losing a second, Billy jumped out of his 
bed and turned back the covering of the wounded 
man. The mass of bloody bandages gave no defi- 
nite guide to the bleeding point, but Billy knew the 
direction of the main artery, and made his pressure 
accordingly. 

The patient was white to the lips and quite uncon- 
scious. 

Billy needed help. He must get it, though he had 
no wish to excite the many wounded men who were 
trying to rest. 

‘‘Jenkins ! ” he called. “Jenkins ! ” 

There was no response. So Billy raised his voice 
in the French nickname that had become so odiously 
familiar : “ Squelette! ** 

Jenkins raised himself violently from his bed. 

“If I ketch’’ he began. But Billy cut him 

short. 

“ Get a nurse quick. This man is bleeding to 
death!” 


72 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Jenkins hurried after a nurse and brought back 
three, one of whom was the chief nurse. 

One glance at the patient was enough for this 
experienced woman. 

tourniquet,” she cried. ''And one of you pre- 
pare the operating room for a transfusion. You, 
Marie, run for Dr. Ricard.” 

The skilful application of the tourniquet relieved 
Billy of his trying task. Very soon Dr. Ricard 
arrived, and with him another surgeon. 

" I bring Major Deschamps,” he explained ; " he 
brought these patients here. He is very skilful in 
transfusion operations.” 

With a gasp of joy, Billy recognized his own 
Uncle Henri. The joy and surprise were mutual, 
but there was no time for explanations. 

" This man must have blood at once, if we save 
him. Who will offer? It must be quick. This 
moment ! ” 

Billy’s countenance fell. From his heart he longed 
to volunteer, but a previous test of his blood had 
shown him to be a very poor donor. 

"What’s the matter?” asked Jenkins. "What 
are they going to do ? ” 

" They want to save this man by giving him some 


“The Squelette” 73 

good, fresh blood. But there’s no donor at hand. 
These patients are all too low.” 

“Try me,” offered Jenkins. “I’m skinny, but 
my blood’s all right. It was tested. Here’s my tag 
what shows it.” 

In military hospitals it is a common practice to 
test the blood of patients and determine the charac- 
ter of the blood, so as to be ready in an emergency. 
When tested a small tag is given to show the classi- 
fication. 

Billy called Dr. Ricard’s attention to Jenkins’ tag. 
“ Here’s a donor,” said the Doctor. “ His blood’s 
in Group 4, so he ought to do. He’s been gassed, 
but is in better shape now.” 

Major Deschamps gave Jenkins a sharp glance 
and also looked at his tag. “He’ll do,” said he. 
“ We haven’t a minute to lose.” 

Half the ward was wide awake by this time. And 
m^n who had often derided the “ Skeleton ” saw 
him follow the nurse to the operating room to 
donate his own blood in the attempt to snatch their 
comrade away from the mysterious portal at which 
he lay. 

Bravo!*' they cried. ^'Voila un bon TLmeru 
cain! ” 

More than an hour later the little procession came 


74 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

quietly back. The patient was lifted tenderly to his 
freshly made bed. 

‘‘ He looks better already/' said Major Des- 
champs. “ He’ll do all right now. It was lucky 
you found him, Billy Ransom, though I don’t know 
what on earth you’re doing here. No, don’t try to 
tell me now. Go to sleep. 1*11 be here early in the 
morning.” 

When the Major came in the morning he had 
already learned about Billy’s case and had seen his 
X-ray plates. 

There’s nothing that need keep you here,” he 
said. ‘‘ I’m going back to Chateau d’Epernay to- 
day, and I’m going to take you with me.” 

Billy thought of Jenkins and told the Major his 
story. 

‘‘ Yes, I expect I can get him transferred to an 
American hospital,” said Major Deschamps. 

‘‘ Here that, Jenk? ” called Billy to the Squelette, 
who was sitting up in the next bed. “ You can go 
to an American hospital ! ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know ! ” said Jenkins. ‘‘ Mebbe I’d 
just as soon stay on here. A lot o’ these Froggies 
has been around to shake hands this mornin’. Seems 
like they ain’t so hard to get along with. I believe 
I’ll stay on here an’ learn their funny language.” 


CHAPTER VII 


SERGEANT MCGIFFON‘’s BROTHER 

Billy Ransom was one of the most surprised boys 
in France when he found his uncle, Major Des- 
champs. He was glad, now, that they had made 
him come to the Bordeaux hospital. 

‘‘ It isn’t necessary for you to stay here,” Major 
Deschamps told him. I have looked at your X-ray 
plates and there isn’t the slightest sign of a frac- 
tured skull, which, no doubt, the 199th surgeon 
feared might have been the case. You may go back 
with me. Perhaps I shall take you all the way to 
my field ambulance at Chateau d’Epernay.” 

I’d like to go. Uncle Henri,” said Billy. Can 
we stop over for a few hours at Pons? I want to 
let the 199th people know what has become of me, 
and I’m sure they would like to meet you.” 

We can stop there between trains,” agreed 
Major Deschamps. 

But at Pons they gained two items of informa- 


75 


76 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

tion that changed their plans. One was in a tele- 
gram for Major Deschamps that sent him off to 
Chateau d’Epernay as fast as he could travel, very 
glad to leave Billy behind. The other was the news 
that the 199th was under orders to move up to the 
front, and was only waiting for travel orders. 

Billy would have liked to go to Chateau d’Eper- 
nay, but he was more anxious to stay and see the 
199th off. Indeed, he found that he would be able 
to travel with them as far as Tours. 

Billy received a warm welcome from Sergeant 
Rooney, who seemed delighted to see him again. 
Every one was excited, even hilarious, at the pros- 
pect of moving. But Billy was surprised to find 
that his old friend. Sergeant McGiffon, had times 
when his hilarity changed to depression, and he 
seemed much worried. 

“What’s the matter, Sarge?” asked Billy. 
“ You’re the only man I’ve met who doesn’t seem 
dizzy with joy at the prospect of moving up.” 

“That shows that you haven’t met the whole 
bunch. If some of them are dizzy, it’s because they 
think they can get on the ‘ sick book ’ that way.” 

“Not aiming to get on the sick book now, are 
they, Sarge? Why, they might get left behind in 
the hospital ! ” 


Sergeant McGiffon’s Brother 77 

‘^A'nd there are just a few who would like to be 
patients and stay right here out of reach of German 
guns.” 

“ They might like it, Sarge, but they wouldn’t let 
themselves do it. Not one of them.” 

‘‘ I wish I didn’t know the contrary,” said the 
sergeant major, “ but I do. That’s what’s worrying 
me. And to think it should be my own kid brother 
that has the worst case of ‘ chilled feet ’ in the regi- 
ment!” 

‘‘ Not Phil! ” cried Billy. 

‘‘ Yes, Phil. Pm so ashamed I don’t know what 
to do. So far he has been pretty clever hiding his 
feelings, but I’m afraid every day he’ll do some- 
thing that will show him up.” 

I can’t believe there’s anything yellow about 
Phil.” 

“ Well, I’d hate to say there was, but if he isn’t 
exactly chrome yellow, he is at least a kind of 
brownish ocher, and slipping fast.” 

‘‘ Can’t we help him out ? ” 

‘‘ I’ve done all I can. It makes me fair sick. 
Here Rooney has just got his citation, and all of us 
fed up about that ; and then this own kid brother of 
mine has to go and act as if he would do anything 


78 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

or have any kind of disease if it will keep him from 
going up with us/" 

“ Has he told you that, or do you just suspect 
it?’" 

'' He told me. He’s ready to do almost anything 
that will get him out. I took his gun away yester- 
day, for fear he’d shoot off some of his fingers or 
toes.” 

‘‘ Is he as bad as that ? ” exclaimed Billy. “ Poor 
chap ! He must be in an awful funk. He must be 
as bad as Jerkson was.” 

I guess he is. Jerkson’s had his share and has 
gotten over it.” 

How did he get over it? ” asked Billy. Tell 
me what they did to Jerkson. Perhaps it would 
help Phil.” 

No, Jerkson’s case was different. He learned 
his lesson before ever we sailed. Didn’t you hear 
about it ? ” 

‘‘ Only hints; I never got the whole story.” 

“ Well, Jerkson never did like the idea of leaving 
his happy home. He said as much from the start. 
But he was sound in wind and limb, specially wind, 
and there wasn’t any way out for him. When the 
199th got on the list for overseas, most of us were 
wild with joy, but Jerkson was chock full of gloom. 


Sergeant McGiffon’s Brother 79 

Of course we didn’t know the exact day of sailing. 
But the very first day we got the word, Jerkson 
reported at sick call. Something was wrong with his 
stomach, he said ; he couldn’t keep anything down.” 

I’d hate that! ” exclaimed Billy. 

Well, the doctor was a little suspicious, and told 
me to watch him. I watched, but Jerkson was too 
much of an artist for me. He was glad to be 
watched. That was exactly what he wanted. As 
soon as any eats got to his stomach he’d look around 
to make sure I was watching, and then he’d give a 
prize exhibition of plain and fancy throwing up.” 

“ He must have been trained to it,” said Billy. 

“ He was trained, all right, but he overdid it. 
Our captain got suspicious. He watched Jerkson 
himself, all unobserved, and made up his mind that 
the boy was playing a big game, though he surely 
was playing it mighty well. By that time he had 
been at it a week, so he really was looking pretty 
bad and not feeling any too well. And then came 
our day to sail.” 

“ That must have been an exciting day.” 

It surely was. I shall never forget it as long as 
I live. I was top sergeant of C Company and pretty 
busy, you may believe. Well, the captain came to 
me and says : ‘ Sergeant, there’s one fellow in this 


80 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

company who is trying to do something that’ll take 
all the man out of him and make him bad company 
for himself as long as he keeps on breathing air in 
and out of his lungs under the delusion that he’s 
alive. He isn’t such a bad man. He is just giving 
way to a coward idea that has come to’ about half 
of us, only the rest of us fought it out ! ’ 

‘‘ ‘ You mean Jerkson, sir? ’ says I. 

‘ Yes, I mean Jerkson,’ says he. ‘ We’ve got to 
give him some help.* 

‘‘ ‘ I’m ready for orders. Captain,’ said I. 

‘‘ ‘ Well, we move out at eight-thirty to-night and 
entrain at ten o’clock. I am going to inform Jerk- 
son that he is to go with us ; but he’s pretty stubborn 
and I imagine he’ll try to play his game to the finish. 
So you will detail a squad of four men and at eight 
o’clock you will begin to get Jerkson started. Make 
him walk, if you can, but if not, carry him. He’s 
pretty weak from starving himself, but not nearly so 
weak as he pretends. You and your squad will have 
your packs all ready and report to the officer of the 
day that you are sent ahead on a special detail. I 
rely upon you to see Jerkson safely on board the 
ship.’ 

The captain went over to the barracks, then to 


Sergeant McGifFon’s Brother 81 

see Jerkson. I followed along and heard their 
palaver. 

‘ I can hardly raise my head,* says Jerkson. 

‘ Too bad I ’ says the captain, ‘ because you’ll 
find it awkward getting to the ship with your head 
down.* 

" Why, I can’t go ! ’ said Jerkson. ‘ I’m too sick. 
I can’t keep anything down.* 

“‘You’re going to be cured,* says the captain. 
‘ What you need is a sea voyage. The doctor told 
me so this morning. I’m anxious to cure your stom- 
ach, Jerkson; but I’m a lot more anxious to cure 
your soul. You’ll be a sick man all your life if I 
don’t cure you — sick of yourself. So McGiffon 
and a squad are going to help you aboard the ship, 
and you’re going to take a voyage for your health.’ 

“‘But* 

“ ‘ Not a but,* said the captain, in the tone of 
voice that no one ever disputed. ‘ You’re going! ’ ” 

“And I reckon he did,” said Billy, “ or he 
wouldn’t be here now.” 

“ I reckon he did,” agreed McGiffon. “ We went 
to his squad room quite a bit before eight o’clock. 
He was in bed, playing his bluff right to the finish.” 

“ ‘ Get up I ’ I says. 

“ ‘ Don’t you know I’m sick ? ’ says he. 


82 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ ' Don't remember that any longer,' says I. 
‘ Curly and Jim will raise you up, and George and 
Shorty will get you into your clothes.' 

“‘Haven't you fellows any hearts?' he says, 
raising up on his elbow. 

“ ‘ Sure we have! ' says I. ‘ We've got hearts, 
and what's more, they've got the Stars and Stripes 
printed on them.' 

“Well, he looked at me and he looked at my 
squad, and he knew we would get him to that ship 
if we had to carry him all the way, and he reckoned 
that wouldn't be any too comfortable. So he began 
to look around for his clothes. 

“After that it wasn't much trouble getting him to 
the ship. And, strange to tell, he wasn't seasick for 
a single minute. And here he is, strong and ready, 
and my own brother is trying to lie down in the 
bunk he left." 

“ It's too bad ! " sympathized Billy. “ I know 
how you must feel, Sarge. And then think of the 
way Phil must feel. I always did like Phil. Some- 
thing tremendous has come over him to make him 
act that way." 

“Thanks, Billy. I'm glad you look at it that 
way." 

“ I surely do, Sarge. And I've got an idea that 


Sergeant McGifFon’s Brother 83 

may help. Before we leave here I was going to take 
some of you in to Saintes. Madame Gazin asked 
me to bring some of you to dinner. Can you get 
passes for Phil and Rooney and yourself for to- 
morrow? Get one for Jerkson, too.’’ 

** I reckon I can, if we can get back in time for 
retreat. No passes after retreat.” 

“ We can make it all right. You all meet me in 
Saintes at the Hotel Messageries at noon. I’m going 
to arrange this thing. It’s going to be the best 
dinner you’ve had in France.” 

And it was a good dinner. From bouillon to 
dessert, everything was served with a daintiness and 
charm unequaled in the experience of these simple 
soldier boys. It was an occasion that they would 
remember as long as they remembered France. 
Madame Gazin intended that it should be so. 

“ Yes,” she said smilingly, in response to Billy’s 
compliments. “ It is beautiful, my home; and these 
are beautiful, my things. This is my bridal home 
and many of these are my wedding things. See 
you, I have a photograph I will show you. Marie, 
get me the wedding photograph. 

‘‘ You boys go very soon,” she continued as the 
maid left the room. You go to the place where 


84 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

you fight for the holy cause. You are glad, is it 
not ? ” 

“ We surely are ! ’’ responded the two sergeants 
together. 

“ I am, too,'’ said Jerkson. “ There was a time 
when I pretty near disgraced the company. McGif- 
fon knows all about it. He and the captain set me 
on my feet again. Now I'm anxious to get where I 
can prove to myself that no matter how scared I 
am. I’m man enough to do my part.” 

Neither Billy nor Phil said a word, but Phil 
turned very red and then very white. He felt that 
every one knew his guilty secret. 

Then the maid returned with the photograph and 
Madame Gazin handed it to Jerkson. 

“ They’re a handsome young couple, Madame,” 
he said. “Are they friends of yours? ” 

Madame Gazin smiled — a smile that bore much 
of pain and regret. 

“ What think you, mon ami Billee,” she asked. 

Billy looked up from the picture. “ It is you, 
Madame,” he said, “ when you were young.” 

“ You are right,” she said. “ I was young — two 
years younger than now! You thought me an old 
woman, is it not? You ar^ surprised to think that 
two years ago I looked like that.” 


Sergeant McGiffon’s Brother 85 

‘‘ There is a terrible difference,” said Billy can- 
didly. 

“ Yes, ‘ terrible ’ is the word. In May of two 
years ago that photograph was taken. I was the 
young bride of a handsome young husband. He 
left me the next day for his regiment. A few post 
cards came, then a letter to say that they were to 
enter the trenches again. Nothing more except — 
except this ! ” 

She held up a tiny photo of the kodak type. They 
pressed around to look at it. It showed only a des- 
olate field, a forlorn-looking hedge, and in the shel- 
ter of the hedge, a lonely wooden cross. 

“ He lies there ! ” she said. 

The boys were all silent until Phil, with tears in 
his voice, said : “ I don’t wonder that you are 
changed. It is awful ! ” 

“ Yes, it is,” agreed Madame Gazin. ‘‘ But it 
wasn’t my Edouard’s death that changed me. When 
the worst shock of my grief had passed I resolved 
that since my dear husband had gone, I must give 
myself to my country to take his place. I had one 
accomplishment — I could speak many languages. 
There was work for me. I was sent to many 
places.” 

‘‘ Captain Burnett told me,” said Billy. 


86 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ But he did not tell you what I saw. I myself 
cannot tell half of it. It was the pain and misery 
that I have seen thrust upon my dear people that 
have made me gray and old. It was the horror of 
seeing defenseless women treated worse than ani- 
mals; the old people, whom we French always vene- 
rate, beaten and shot down like dogs; the little 
children maimed by the power of the gross brutes 
who were their conquerors ! 

“ When I had seen that, my little white cross 
became a shrine. I knew that God was good. I knew 
that many things are worse than death. I knew 
that it was better, oh, so much better, for my hus- 
band to lay down his beautiful life on the field of 
battle, than that he should have stayed back.” 

There was an impressive silence as she ended. 
The boys looked one at the other. No one seemed 
to have exactly the right word, until suddenly Phil 
McGiffon spoke up. 

“ Madame,” said he, ‘‘ we are not of France, but 
we are of a free country, and we will put our lives 
alongside that of your husband if they are needed. 
We are not all naturally daring, like Sergeant 
Rooney, but you and your husband remind us well 
that there are worse things than death.” 

His voice quivered as he spoke the words, but the 


Sergeant McGifFon’s Brother 87 

color in his face had changed back from white to its 
normal tints. 

Brave boys ! '' said Madame Gazin, .putting her 
hand on Phil’s shoulder and kissing him on the fore- 
head. “ You American soldiers are here with your 
brave hearts and strong hands because God still 
reigns and you fight for Him. Ah, death is a little 
thing to such soldiers ! ” 

The topic changed; they talked of other things. 
But Billy was happy in the work accomplished. 

I believe you hit it, Billy,” said Sergeant McGif- 
fon that night. ‘‘ Phil is getting all his traps 
together to-night.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


40 HOMMES, 8 CHEVAUX 

The very first day that Billy Ransom was in 
France he had been obliged to translate for the men 
of the 199th the French inscription on the box cars 
in which they were to travel. 

“What’s it mean, Billy?” asked Corporal Riley. 
“ It says ‘ 40 hommes, 8 chevaux/ Is it like one of 
the old problems : ‘ What will be the cost of 40 
hommeys and 8 chervoos when eggs are selling fifty 
cents a dozen ? ’ ” 

“ It means that the car will carry forty men or 
eight horses,” Billy explained. 

“ I was afraid it meant forty men and eight 
horses,” said Sergeant McGiffon. “ I can see how 
we might get forty men in one of those cars by 
careful packing, but if we had to put in eight horses, 
too, I’m afraid things would be a bit crowded.” 

“Do we all ride in these side-door Pullmans?” 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 89 

shouted Corporal Riley. Be sure you give me a 
lower berth, Sarge ! 

“ Sure, I will, Riley ! How would you like the 
porter to make your berth — with the head or the 
feet toward the engine?” 

“ Feet, please. And tell him to see that the sheets 
aren’t wrinkled.” 

Billy had felt proud of the light-hearted manner 
in which they were preparing to make their hard 
journey. The string of box cars had been used for 
any and all purposes, and most of them were not 
even clean. A few had a layer of dirty straw on the 
floor, but this was worse than nothing. All the cars’ 
prospective passengers could do was to give the dirty 
floors a hasty cleaning, and arrange their packs in 
the best manner possible. 

The first time Billy’s company had moved, Billy 
himself had gone off in a first-class carriage. If he 
had been allowed to choose he would have stuck by 
his friends and shared their box cars with them, but 
at that time he was traveling with his father. 

Now that the 199th was about to move again, he 
had a better opportunity. He could travel with 
them at least part of the way, though he would not 
be allowed to go all the way to the front. 

‘‘ You can go with us at least as far as Tours,” 


90 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

said Sergeant McGiffon. ‘‘I don’t know myself 
just where or how we’re going. You know Head- 
quarters tries to make troop movements a big 
secret.” 

“ But you know you are going by way of 
Tours?” 

“ Yes, I know that much, because Tours is our 
first long stop ; and the R. T. O. man says that we’ll 
go from Tours to Dijon, and from Dijon to Chau- 
mont, and he doesn’t think General Pershing him- 
self knows yet where we’ll go after we get to Chau- 
mont.” 

“ Well, if you are going to Tours I can certainly 
go that far, for it is right on the road to Paris. So 
count me in somewhere in your forty hommes/^ 

It was not a very pleasant morning when the 
199th finally left Pons. Rain had begun to fall. 
Rain is one of the things in which French weather 
has evidently had a great deal of practice, for it does 
it very effectively. The men marched down to the 
train from their billets in column of squads, and 
really felt forlorn to think of leaving their new 
friends and going into dangers that, while vague, 
were none the less dreadful. Some one started a 
noisy song, but it didn’t get past the first battalion. 

But when they got to the long string of cars they 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 91 

received a pleasant surprise. The cars were plain 
box cars, just like the others in which they had rid- 
den, but each one had been carefully swept, and 
several inches of clean straw laid in them as a 
carpet. 

“ That’s fine work,” said Billy. ‘‘ When did you 
do it, Sarge? ” 

‘‘ I didn’t do it,” replied Sergeant McGiffon. ‘‘ It 
was done by the citizens of Pons, as an evidence of 
good-will to the soldiers of America.” 

‘‘And we thought they wanted to cheat us,” said 
Billy. 

“ They’ve made that up, all right, long ago,” 
admitted McGiffon. “ They have turned out to be a 
mighty fine lot. Here’s one of them coming all the 
way through the rain after us now. It’s old Mon- 
sieur Perigeux, from where the Colonel was bil- 
leted. See what he wants, Billy.” 

Billy went forward to meet the old gentleman and 
conversed with him for a few moments in French. 
He came back to McGiffon with a smile on his face 
and holding something in his hand. 

“What did he want?” asked McGiffon. “Did 
the Colonel forget to pay his board ? ” 

“ He didn’t want a thing in the world except to 
be honest,” said Billy. “ He has come two miles 


92 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

through the rain because the Colonel had left these 
precious articles behind him.’’ 

He held up to the astonished McGiffon the 
precious articles: One piece of soap, one small box 
of matches, one stub of a black pencil ! 

‘‘ That’ll do,” said McGiffon. “ I don’t want any- 
body to be telling me these Frenchies are robbers. 
Not another word ! ” 

Billy lost no time in finding the Colonel and deliv- 
ering the articles and the message. 

‘‘ I didn’t suppose I was putting him to all this 
trouble,” said the Colonel. ‘‘ I left the soap and the 
matches because I knew they were scarce. The pen- 
cil I forgot. I ought to have known that a scrupu- 
lous Frenchman is very scrupulous indeed. Ask 
him to accept them with my compliments.” 

He prefers not to,” explained Billy. “ He says 
that he knows you are too busy to listen now, but he 
is going to tell me all about everything.” 

‘‘ Very well, Billy. Let him tell you the story. 
Listen carefully, and you can come and tell me. You 
may as well come back and travel with us. You see 
they have a second-class carriage with upholstered 
seats for me and my staff. You can ride with us 
as well as not.” 

‘‘ Thank you very kindly. Colonel,” replied 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 93 

Billy, “ but Fm anxious to travel with the boys, and 
they have plenty of room. The car we are in has 
only thirty- two men.” 

Is that so?” asked the Colonel. ‘‘Well, go 
along and ride with them until you get tired of it. 
You can come back to my carriage at any stopping 
place. But say, Billy, remember that some of the 
enlisted men have habits that your father would feel 
very sad to see in you.” 

“ Yes, sir. But the men I am with are a very 
fine lot.” 

“ Fm glad to hear it, Billy. Nevertheless don’t 
forget that men’s weaknesses crop out pretty badly 
on a journey such as we are about to take, with 
forty men shut up in a small box together, to show 
their best and their worst.” 

“ I’ll remember. Colonel. But I think father 
would be willing that I should be with these men.” 

“ Very well. You may try it. Don’t forget that 
there’s room back here whenever you want to come.” 

The train was just ready to start as Billy got back 
to his car, after parting with Monsieur Perigeux. 
Sergeant McGiffon was anxiously watching for 
him. 

“ Swing on here, Billy,” he said. “ Don’t go into 
the parlor with your hobnails.” 


94 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

The men in this car had piled all their straw up 
in the two ends and covered it with blankets, leaving 
the middle of the car bare. No man was allowed 
to go up on the straw until he had taken off his 
shoes. They had the good fortune to get a well- 
ventilated car with sliding shutters in the ends. A 
few men were already lying down on their impro- 
vised beds, but most of them were in the middle of 
the car watching the many novel features of French 
life that were revealed as their train rolled along. 

Traveling in box cars as our soldiers did in 
France, had not one comfortable feature to com- 
mend it. The novelty helped a little. The unusual 
sights that could be taken in by those who could 
crowd around the doors caused some diversion. 
But there was a heavy drain upon good nature. Men 
needed to be of good mettle to stand the ordeal 
cheerfully. 

Billy was glad that they soon ran out of the rain 
into sunshine. This helped greatly, especially where 
the little villages were close together and there were 
many people to see at work. The workers were 
chiefly old men, women, and children, and among 
these the women seemed to take the lead. Seldom 
indeed was a horse to be seen; the plowing and the 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 95 

hauling were all done by oxen with stout wooden 
yokes clamped on their heads. 

After a ride of about four hours Sergeant McGif- 
fon announced that they were to be sidetracked for 
an hour and would take this opportunity for mess. 
Three days’ rations had been secured from’ the 
Commissary Department before starting the trip, in 
addition to the reserve ration which every man car- 
ried all the time and which was to be used only in 
emergency. Coffee had been ordered at this place 
and would be served by the French Red Cross. 

Billy was glad to get out of the springless car, 
stretch his legs, and warm himself in the sunshine. 
His dinner was soon put away and he had half an 
hour for exploration, which, however, must not 
carry him out of the range of bugle call. 

He was coming leisurely back to the car when he 
heard voices in angry dispute. A high board fence 
hid the disputants. Billy could not see them, but he 
heard enough to know that they had been spending 
their rest time in gambling and that a man who had 
the voice of Corporal Riley had lost all of his last 
month’s pay. 

Billy was disgusted with Riley, but at the same 
time he felt sorry for him ; for he had heard enough 
to know that he had lost everv cent he owned and 


96 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

would have no more money for at least a month. It 
was a fine predicament I 

Riley was such a wide-awake, pleasant fellow in 
general that Billy was quite surprised. But he was 
still more surprised later on when he happened to 
see Riley pick up a pocketbook that was not his 
own, and slip it into his pocket, thinking himself 
unobserved. Billy knew who had dropped, that 
pocketbook on the straw, and it was not Riley. 

But he said nothing. It had been a big tempta- 
tion and Riley had yielded. Perhaps when he had 
time to think he would come to his right mind and 
would make some effort at restoration. Billy would 
give him the chance. 

Meantime the chance came to tell Corporal Riley, 
indirectly, something about his conduct. The trip 
was noisy and wearisome and long. The men, tired 
of looking out, settled down on their straw and told 
stories. 

Let’s hear one from Billy,” said Sergeant 
McGiffon. ‘‘Tell the boys about the old French 
gentleman, Billy.” 

“ Yes, tell us all about him, Billy,” cried several. 

“All right,” agreed Billy. “ Some of you are 
going to think Pm making this up, but Pm not. It 
is all true. If the cap happens to fit, I can’t help it.” 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 97 

“ Well, the old gentleman came down to the sta- 
tion two miles through the rain and the mud, just 
to bring to Colonel one small cake of soap, one box 
of matches, and one pencil stub that had been left 
behind. When I took him up the Colonel told the 
old gentleman he should have kept the stuff. The 
old man shook his head and said that he dared not.” 

‘‘Afraid he’d get into the hands of our M. P.’s? ” 

“ No. He wasn’t afraid of M. P.’s, either Amer- 
ican or French.” 

“ Why didn’t he dare, then? ” 

“ That’s the story I’m going to tell you. It goes 
back to when Perigeux was a young man. He had 
been well brought up, but he got into fast company, 
got to gambling, lost all his money, borrowed all he 
could and lost that, and was in a bad fix all around.” 

“All you gamblers listen,” said Sergeant McGif- 
fon, who knew the failings of his men pretty well. 

“ Gambling wasn’t the worst,” continued Billy. 
“ Folks were pushing him for money. It was an 
easy matter for him to take some from his employ- 
er’s funds. He borrowed a thousand francs and 
made an entry showing it as an advance to a branch 
house.” 

“ That’s the regular order of things,” said McGif- 
fon. “ Gamble — broke — debt — steal.” 


98 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ He told me that he really did not mean to steal, 
and he expected to be able to pay the money back 
and close it up, but unfortunately that very night he 
won five hundred francs. It was unfortunate, 
because it gave him the idea that he could do the 
same thing the next night, and so get clear of his 
debt.” 

‘‘ ril say he lost it all.” 

“ He did, and even added some more debt. But 
winning that five hundred francs so took hold of his 
imagination that he kept feeling sure that with one 
more trial he could win everything back.” 

“ How long before the police got him? ” 

** Never. That is the best part of this story. One 
day a young friend in the same office came to him 
with a white, scared face and whispered, ‘ You must 
get away, Perigeux. You are discovered.’ ” He 
began to gather his stuff together, when there came 
over him a great shame of his cowardice. ‘ What’s 
the use of running? ’ he thought. ‘ It will only lead 
me still lower.’ So he was man enough to go to his 
employer and tell him everything. The employer 
was a good man, so* uncommonly good that he 
cleared up the whole thing on the promise of Peri- 
geux that he would never again yield to the slightest 
temptation to gamble or steal. So the young man 


40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux 99 

began again and has reached the honor of being the 
most highly respected citizen of Pons.*' 

‘‘ That’s a happy ending,” said McGiffon, “ but 
it doesn’t often end that way. More often gambling 
goes on to stealing and the stealer goes on to the 
penitentiary.” 

You fellows make me tired with your talk about 
the penitentiary ! ” objected Corporal Riley. 

I should think we would,” retorted McGiffon. 
“ I’ve been hearing about you, Riley. If you don’t 
get any worse than tired, you’ll get through.” 

Riley turned off, sulky, and Billy feared that 
McGiffon’s words had spoiled his story. So he 
took particular pains to seek out Riley at the next 
stop, where supper rations were served, and eat sup- 
per with him in as friendly a way as possible. 

Billy had learned that friendly acts always paid 
big returns, and so it happened this time. Night 
came shortly after they again entrained. It was 
pitch dark in the car, but a couple of flash lights 
helped the boys to pick out places to lie down. Billy 
was far from comfortable. He just could not find 
a good place for his head. 

Suddenly he heard Riley at his side. 

Never saw my air pillow, did you, Billy? Well, 


100 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

here it is, all blown up and ready to use. Put your 
head down on it.” 

‘‘ But you need it yourself,” said Billy. 

‘‘ No, I don’t. I’ve got my coat rolled up. I want 
you to have this pillow, Billy, to show you that I 
appreciate something you have done for me to-day. 

I was going just like that Frenchman, Billy. But 
I’m through. And this afternoon I picked up a 
pocketbook with money in it. At first I thought I’d 
keep it. Then I heard your story and I decided to 
give it up as soon as the loser hollered about it. But 
nobody has said a word and it puts me in a bad 
light if I keep it, because McGiffon will want to 
know why I held it. I’m going to be square, so you 
take it and see if you can find the owner. Will you, 
Billy?” 

‘‘ Sure I will, Riley,” said Billy. “ I saw you 
pick this up, but I wanted you to square it up your- 
self, just as you’re doing. Thank you for finding 
it. The pocketbook is mine.” 


CHAPTER IX 


BILLY ENTERTAINS FRIENDS AT TOURS 

Detrain at Tours. Await further orders from 
Chaumont.’* 

This was the telegram received by Colonel Darrell 
and by him passed on to Sergeant Major McGiifon 
with the order that all concerned be notified. 

‘‘ I hope you can stay in Tours several days/* said 
Billy Ransom. “ It’s a wonderful city, one of the 
most wonderful in France. Father took me there 
from Paris one day, and showed me a lot of things.” 

We’re not over here for sight-seeing, Billy, but 
we don’t mind taking a look at things as we go. If 
we stop at this place a day or two, we’ll let you take 
us around.” 

I surely would like to show you that grand old 
cathedral and I know you would always be glad to 
have seen the fine hotel de villef^ 

No good talking hotels to us, Billy,” said Ser- 
101 


102 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

geant Rooney. ‘‘ We’re doughboys. We do well if 
we get a good barn roof over us.” 

“ This isn’t the kind of hotel you think it is, 
Sarge,” said Billy; ‘‘ the French use the name hotel 
de ville for their city hall. The one at Tours is not 
very old, but it’s a beauty.” 

“All right, Billy. You fix it with G. H. Q. that 
we stay in Tours long enough, and we promise to 
go with you to see your cathedral and your city hall, 
and then maybe you’ll take us to a picture show or 
something we’ll really enjoy.” 

“ Now you’re just talking to hear yourself, 
Rooney,” protested Billy. “ You’ll like the real 
things of that beautiful old city a lot more than any 
picture show, and you’ll remember them longer. I 
will take you to a picture show, though, if you can 
get leave.” 

“ ’Tis done, Billy. I want seats in the balcony 
with the real French people.” 

“ You’ll get seats where they don’t cost too much, 
if I pay for them,” Billy assured him. 

It was no unwelcome order that bade them 
detrain from that line of French “ parlor cars ”, as 
the boys called them. The men stretched their stiff 
limbs, stamped their cramped feet, and rubbed the 
aching bony prominences which had come into 


Billy Entertains at Tours 103 

closest association with the hard boards during the 
long night. 

The march through the streets of Tours was the 
most interesting that the men of the 199th had yet 
taken. Tours has a population of about seventy-five 
thousand. It is of even greater interest than its size 
would indicate, partly because its nearness to Paris 
gives it many of the airs of that great city, and 
partly because of its antiquity and romance. 

Billy marched along in the line of file closers, just 
behind Sergeant McGiffon. The men of the com- 
pany were so used to him that he drew no attention 
from them, but he could hear the French onlookers 
exclaiming about le petit eclaireiirf’ 

Suddenly he heard a boy’s voice shouting in 
French that was supposed to be English. 

Ho, scout ! You come ! Par id! Vite! 

Looking around quickly, Billy saw in front of the 
Hotel Bordeaux a group of boys in Boy Scout uni- 
forms. 

“ Fm going to leave you for a few minutes, 
Sarge,” he called to McGiffon. '' There’s a bunch 
of scouts over here and one of them has called me. 
I’ll find you when you are settled.” 

He left the column and darted over toward the 
hotel. 


104 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘You called me?” he asked. “Which one ol 
you speaks English?” 

“ Onglees, me ! ” the tallest scout replied. “ I 
have Onglees some. There is by this hotel un officer 
American who demands for messenger Boy Scout 
having Onglees. Me, I have too few.” 

“All right ; lead me to him,” said Billy. 

In the hotel they found the number of the officer’s 
room. All went upstairs and stood grouped around 
the door as the tall scout knocked. 

“Hullo, hullo!” said a jovial voice, as the door 
was opened by a good-looking young man in the 
uniform of a captain. “What’s all this about? 
I’m a scoutmaster at home, but I came over here 
for other duties.” 

“ Sir,” said the French boy, “ it is of your 
demand to see one scout having of the Onglees. 
Voila! ” He waved his hand dramatically in Billy’s 
direction and stepped to the rear. 

“ You speak English, do you? ” asked the officer. 
“ Do you understand it pretty well ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Billy. “ I’ve been speaking it 
for about fifteen years.” 

“ You are an American,” said the officer. “Now 
do you speak French as well as English? ” 

“ Not quite,” admitted Billy honestly. 


Billy Entertains at Tours 105 

‘‘ Take leave of your friends and come in here/’ 

“ You can do me a fine good turn if you will,” 
said Billy to the scout. ‘‘ Some of my army friends 
are quartered in the barracks near the hotel de ville. 
I promised to take them out this afternoon to see 
the hotel de ville, and the cathedral and a picture 
show. But if this officer wants me, I must stay 
here. Will you look after my soldiers for me ? ” 

“ French scouts cannot do too much for Ameri- 
can soldiers,” replied Jean Foure, the tall scout in 
French. “We will all go and help your friends 
have a good time. It will be fun.” 

Billy wrote a note of explanation to Sergeant 
McGiffon and gave it to Jean. Then he went into 
the room. 

“ Here he is. Colonel,” said the officer. “ He is 
an American Boy Scout. I don’t know how he 
comes to be here, but he seems to be exactly what 
we want.” 

The American addressed as Colonel was sitting 
before a small table which was covered with maps 
and military papers. He looked sharply at Billy 
and smiled. 

“ You are the boy I saw at Pons with the 199th, 
are you not ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Billy standing at attention. 


1 06 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“And your name? ” 

“William Ransom, sir, but every one calls me 
Billy.” 

“That settles it. Billy Ransom is just the boy 
for us. I have heard how you helped at Pons. We 
came here to do some rather important business and 
brought a good interpreter with us, but this morn- 
ing he was taken violently ill. Captain Ferguson 
will take you to luncheon with him and then you will 
go with him and do what he wants you to do this 
afternoon. You will stay with Captain Ferguson 
all the time and do exactly as he directs.” 

“ Yes, sir.” Billy saluted and turned to the door, 
where Captain Ferguson was waiting. 

The Hotel Bordeaux supplied an excellent 
luncheon, and then Billy learned from the Captain 
where he was to go. He obtained directions at the 
hotel office. 

Billy had no difficulty in finding his way about 
the city, which is laid out on a more generous plan 
than the average French city of its size. By three 
o’clock they had visited several branches of the 
French military service, and had practically com- 
pleted their mission. 

“ Now, Billy, we don’t have a thing to do until 
five o’clock, when we must be back at the hotel for 


Billy Entertains at Tours 107 

the meeting we have arranged. Several of the 
French officers talk English fairly well, and Colonel 
Graves talks pretty good French, but you must be 
there in case of complications. You may have to 
act as official interpreter. Now where shall we go 
until five o’clock ? ” 

I think you would enjoy seeing the cathedral,” 
said Billy. 

Very well, let’s go.” 

The cathedral is one of very special interest, dat- 
ing back many hundreds of years, but as services 
were being conducted, they slipped quietly through 
a side door to the great stone stairway leading to 
the tower. 

They climbed hundreds of steps, going round and 
round that winding stairway until there was born 
in their minds a great respect for the ingenuity and 
perseverance of its builders. But at last they 
reached the top and found there a platform from 
which they could look not only at the beautiful city 
of Tours, but also upon many miles of peaceful 
country around it. 

There is no fairer part of France than the country 
lying around the historic city of Tours, and no more 
beautiful country in the world than the wonderful 
valley of the Loire. Captain Ferguson, fortunately. 


108 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

had his field glasses with him, and through them 
they were able to see clearly some of the romantic 
chateaux that have stood for generations in that 
district and fortunately have escaped the hazards 
of war. 

As Billy was taking one last lingering look 
through the Captain’s field glasses, he happened to 
focus them upon the* street beneath. There he saw 
Sergeants McGiffon and Rooney, accompanied by 
Jean Foure, just going away. Evidently they would 
be gone before he could reach the street. 

Billy was greatly disappointed for a moment, but 
his disappointment was swept away by another emo- 
tion, for, into the range of his glass, there suddenly 
came a figure that he felt sure he recognized to be 
that of Monsieur Marson, formerly the interpreter 
for the 199th. 

Through the cleverness of Madame Gazin, of 
Saintes, this man had been found guilty of treason, 
and Billy supposed him to be safely in prison. 
What was he doing in Tours? 

He disappeared in an instant, leaving Billy on 
the top of the high tower, ardently longing for the 
wings of a bird or a bird-man, that he might make 
a safe, instantaneous descent; although Billy Ran- 
som, being only a boy, might have been hard put to 


Billy Entertains at Tours 109 

it to know just what to do with Marson if he had 
met him face to face on the street. 

Billy did not mention the matter to Captain Fer- 
guson. It was too uncertain. Together they went 
back to the Hotel Bordeaux, and within half an 
hour after their arrival came several officers of the 
French Army, who talked for a long time with the 
American officers, Billy translating for them occa- 
sionally. The most that he gathered from this 
meeting was that it was a prelude to a still more 
important conference that would occur the next 
morning. 

‘‘ Thank you greatly for your services, Billy Ran- 
som,” said the Colonel as the meeting ended. I 
have another interpreter engaged for the meeting 
to-morrow, but I don't know how we could have 
managed without you to-day.” 

Billy went away well content. He wondered if 
it were too late to overtake his friends who had 
gone with Jean to the picture show. 

He decided that it was worth trying for, anyway. 
There were only two picture houses operating in 
Tours at that time, so he could not go far wrong. 
Opposite the door of the first there was a poster 
with the heading ‘^La Revanche But the face that 
grinned out upon him from below the French title 


110 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

was that of an American film hero, and Billy knew 
that the homesick American boys certainly had 
made this their choice. 

The house was filled, and as the picture was 
already showing, it was darkened. Standing in the 
rear, Billy listened patiently and was soon rewarded 
by hearing Rooney's laugh, as the hero, his teeth 
all showing in a familiar grin, jumped lightly from 
the top of a train into a passing automobile. 

Having located the laugh, the next thing was to 
reach his friends, no easy matter in that dark and 
crowded house. Billy was feeling his way carefully 
along the rows of seats when he stopped short. He 
heard some one mention the 199th. 

It was not one of his companions, for the conver- 
sation was in French. Who could it be? He listened 
carefully. 

You will have to lie low until they move on. It 
is very unfortunate that they came. However, I 
have learned that none of them will be at to-mor- 
row's conference, so " 

“ Don't talk so loud ! " said a warning voice. 
‘‘ You think because it is dark that people cannot 
hear.” 

That was enough. Billy was convinced that an 
interpreter was within arm's length of him. Also 


Billy Entertains at Tours 111 

the mention of the conference told him everything. 

He withdrew quietly from the theater, and hur- 
ried back to the Hotel Bordeaux. 

The Colonel had gone to bed, but Captain Fer- 
guson took Billy in and had him tell the whole 
story. 

‘‘And you think that this Marson and his accom- 
plices managed in some way to make our interpreter 
ill so that he might get his place? ** 

“ Yes, sir, Fm sure of it.’' 

“ But he comes with high recommendations from 
Paris authorities.” 

“ That makes no difference. Send a telegram to 
Saintes, asking Madame Gazin to come here on the 
night train. Then invite Colonel Darrell, of the 
199th, to the meeting. Let them be concealed until 
Marson is well settled. They will identify him and 
prove him a spy.” 

“ This is very important, Billy, very important. 
No one must know of that conference to-morrow. 
We do not even wish it to be known that such a 
conference is held. You will sleep right here to- 
night, my boy. We shall need you to-morrow.” 

Billy was too tired to stay awake, although 
greatly excited. He slept so late that he had barely 


112 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

time to gulp down his breakfast before the impor- 
tant meeting. 

Just before the conference met he was led into a 
little alcove, where he found Colonel Darrel and 
Madame Gazin. 

Then the officers gathered, and in a few seconds 
in walked Captain Ferguson, accompanied by M. 
Marson, who took his place at a table. 

‘*Is every one present vouched for?’’ asked the 
general who was presiding. One after another 
those present stood up and presented their creden- 
tials. 

‘‘And the interpreter ? ” asked the presiding offi- 
cer. 

“ I am vouched for by M. Justin Marcel, banker, 
of Paris,” he said, presenting a letter. 

At this moment Colonel Darrell and Madame 
Gazin stepped from their alcove. 

M. Marson, the interpreter, saw them, glanced 
wildly around the room, and attempted a rush for 
the window. But Captain Ferguson was too quick 
for him. He was led from the room by two 
soldiers. 

“ Scout William Ransom will stay and act as 
interpreter, if it is permitted,” said the Colonel. 

So Billy helped at a most important conference 


Billy Entertains at Tours 113 

and, when all was over, the general who had pre- 
sided shook him by the hand and told him that he 
had done a good service, and noted his name and 
address that he might be called upon if needed at a 
later time. 

“ I hated to leave the boys in the lurch yester- 
day,” said Billy to Captain Ferguson. I had 
promised to entertain them.” 

Never mind, Billy,” Captain Ferguson con- 
soled him. “ I think you made quite a record as an 
entertainer, anyway.” 


CHAPTER X 


KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING 

Scout Billy Ransom was in a hurry. The gen- 
eral who had come to Tours to preside at the con- 
ference of French and American officers had sent 
for him. What did he want? 

“ I want you to help me, Billy Ransom. Colonel 
Darrell has told me that you are thoroughly Ameri- 
can in your quick thinking. I need some infor- 
mation that I can get through official channels in a 
month, but I believe you can bring me in a couple of 
days.” 

“ Pm all ready,” said Billy. 

‘‘ My sister’s boy, James Banks, was so anxious 
to go to war that he ran away from home two years 
ago and managed to enlist in the French Army. A 
week ago Captain Bell saw him passing through 
Paris, one of a trainload of wounded French 
soldiers. The train was just pulling out and the 

114 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 115 

Captain could only learn that the wounded men were 
being evacuated to a base hospital at Nantes.” 

“ Yes, sir. You want me to go to Nantes and 
find if James Banks is at the base hospital? ” 

‘‘Well, it won’t be quite so easy as all that 
Nantes is a big city, more than twice as large as 
this. It covers a great deal of ground and there are 
many hospitals. You must remember that to meet 
the great needs of this war all manner of schools 
and convents and private homes have been turned 
into military hospitals.” 

“ Yes, sir. I see that it may not be so easy. Per- 
haps I shan’t be able to find him in one day. But 
then I have plenty of time. I will start for Nantes 
at once if you will get me the necessary papers. 
How long a trip is it ? ” 

“About six hours. I will get all the papers ready 
for you at once. And I think that you will find him 
if he is using his own name, because the very fact 
that he is an American soldier in the French Army 
will serve to make him conspicuous.” 

“ But it is not uncommon for American soldiers 
to be in French hospitals,” said Billy, remembering 
his own experiences at Bordeaux. 

“ No, but it is uncommon to find wounded French 
soldiers who are Americans. That is what you must 


116 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

look for, Billy; a French soldier who is an Ameri- 
can.*- 

‘‘ ril find him,” promised Billy confidently. “ I 
will get ready to go at once. What shall I tell him ? ” 
Tell him that there is a place for him in the U. 
S. Army, on my staff.” 

“ Yes, sir. I am awfully glad to take that mes- 
sage, General.” 

The train to Nantes was badly crowded. First- 
class passenger coaches on French express trains 
have a long corridor running along the side of the 
coach for its full length, and from this aisle, com- 
partments open off, each of which will seat ten or 
twelve passengers. The best that Billy could do 
was to get a chance to stand in the corridor. 

He got tired of standing long before Nantes was 
reached. He had no baggage except the bag in 
which he carried a change of underwear and a few 
odds and ends of clothing and equipment. The floor 
of the corridor was very dirty, but he put his bag 
down, seated himself upon it, leaning back against 
the frame of the compartment behind him, and 
finally went to sleep. 

You may imagine that Billy was very tired, for 
he did not waken until the train was pulling into 
Nantes and passengers began to crowd out of their 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 117 

compartments into the long corridor, anxious to be 
first to leave the train, just as railway passengers 
are in America. 

It is my Boy Scout ! ’’ said a lady, who came 
from one of the compartments. “ Wake up, Billy 
Ransom! 

‘‘ Madame Gazin ! ’’ cried Billy. ‘‘ I thought that 
you were on your way home.’* 

So I am, going by way of Nantes because the 
service is better. Besides, I have some business 
here. But what do you do here ? ” 

Billy told her his errand. 

It will not be hard if he goes by his English 
name,” said Madame Gazin. “ But that is not 
likely. You say his name is James Banks. What 
kind of French name would that make?” 

‘‘ It would be Jacques for James, and for Banks 
he might keep the name unchanged, or change it 
into any of half a dozen names that mean the same 
thing.” 

So it won’t be easy, mon petit scout. It is too 
late to do anything to-day. I have friends in the 
hospitals. Come with me and let us try to arrange 
something for to-morrow.” 

The train came to a standstill and Billy followed 


118 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Madame Gazin out to the platform and gave up his 
ticket at the gate, as is the French custom. 

“No one is expecting me,” said Madame Gazin. 
“ We shall travel by tram, or, as you say in Amer- 
ica, by street car.” 

Billy noticed by the great crowds of people that 
Nantes was a city of considerable importance. 

“ Besides the normal population,” Madame Gazin 
told him, “ there are nearly forty thousand refugees 
from Belgium here now. Large ships come up the 
Loire as far as Nantes, turning the city into a 
bustling seaport.” 

They left the tramcar at the Place de Commerce, 
and a few minutes^ walk brought them to a building 
that had formerly been a women’s college. 

“ The nursing sisters of the French Red Cross 
have their headquarters here,” said Madame Gazin. 
“We can find from them what you must do.” 

When they entered, Billy discovered that they 
were in a very busy place. However, Madame 
Gazin secured attention without delay. 

“ It is not an easy question you ask,” said the 
chief. “ There are at least twenty-five thousand 
wounded soldiers in Nantes at present, and they are 
distributed in many hospitals, at least, thirty. If 
your task obliged you to see every patient, you might 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 1 19 

Spend several days in a single one of the larger hos- 
pitals. But it helps a little to know that this man 
arrived here within the week. That means that 
unless he had tuberculosis or was insane, he went 
to Martres. If he was a surgical case, he went to 
Doulon.” 

He was with a lot of surgical cases,” said Billy, 
“ for he was with men who wore bandages.” 

Then Doulon will be the first place to try.” 

*VWhy can’t I go there this evening?” asked 
Billy. 

“ It is four miles away, and there are eight hos- 
pitals there. Nurses do not like to have patients 
disturbed by visitors after they are settled for the 
night.” 

'' Of course not,” Billy agreed. “ I shall go to 
Doulon early in the morning. To-night I shall go 
to a hotel.” 

We will give you a bed,” said the chief. ‘^And 
in the morning we will do all that we can to help.” 

In the office that evening Billy was glad to find 
an American girl. She was a professional singer 
who had been sent to Nantes by the Y. M. C. A. to 
entertain American soldiers in the hospitals. 

‘‘ But there are very few American wounded in 
Nantes yet,” she said. I fear that there will be 


120 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

many more later on, but just now I can scarcely find 
any to listen to me. So I sing for the French 
instead.’^ 

Billy found how much Madame Gazin’s interest 
had helped him, the next morning when, after giving 
him a good breakfast, the chief placed at his service 
a motor cycle with a side car and a driver. 

“ This is certainly fine of you,” said Billy. ‘‘ I 
feel sure that with this help I shall find my man 
to-day.” 

‘^Vive VAmerique et vive les Americains/* replied 
the chief, with a smile. ‘‘You are saving our coun- 
try.” 

Billy did not think it likely that James Banks was 
a victim of either tuberculosis or insanity, so he 
spent no time in visiting the special hospitals for 
men so afflicted. 

He asked the driver to take him right out to the 
largest hospital in Doulon, resolved that he would 
go through them one by one, if need be, and not 
give up until he had either found James Banks, or 
visited every ward in every hospital hunting for 
him. 

Doulon is really a town in its own right, though 
it has become a suburb of Nantes by reason of the 
larger city’s growth. However, it has well-built 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 121 

houses and shops, and its streets, though narrow, 
are well kept. The hospital to which the driver first 
took Billy was a fine, large building standing in 
spacious grounds with several smaller buildings 
annexed. 

Billy went straight to business. One of his good 
points was the ease with which he always gained a 
hearing. He had been trained by his father to 
approach his elders with respect and courtesy but 
to go straight to the point without fear, remember- 
ing always that the greater the person he was to 
meet, the more would be appreciated a natural, 
direct manner. So he always stated his wishes in a 
boyish, straightforward way that was very pleasing. 

‘‘ We shall look on our books for James Banks,” 
said the registrar. It is an unusual name for the 
French Army, so it should be easly found.” 

Alas, there was no record of James nor any other 
Banks! Neither could any record be found of 
Bancs or Banques which would be more nearly the 
French spelling. 

‘‘ May I go through your wards and see what I 
can find? ” asked Billy. 

“ Yes, if you think that will help.” 

Billy really had not deceived himself with the 
idea that a light job lay before him. He knew that 


122 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

searching those wards for James or Jacques Banks 
meant a busy time. But it was not until he stood 
at the entrance of the first surgical ward and looked 
down the long, long room, his eye resting first on 
the many beds on the one side and then on the long 
line opposite, every one containing a wounded 
French soldier who might be an American named 
James Banks, that the real size of his task came to 
him. 

The nurse and the ward master were the especial 
objects of his attention. There was no good talking 
to the surgeons; they hardly ever knew the names 
of the patients. 

‘‘ Have you had many new patients in the last 
week ? ** he asked. 

“ Not many. The patients in this ward have 
severe wounds. We do not change so often as 
some.’’ 

“ I am searching for a wounded French soldier 
who is an American. His name is Banks. He has 
come within a week.” 

‘‘ We have no such man. Few patients have been 
received here within a week. Go to the Belpre 
Annex.” 

From ward to ward Billy went, always polite and 
always pleasant, asking similar questions and get- 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 123 

ting similar answers, except that but seldom did 
his informants agree as to the place where the new- 
est patients were likely to be. At the Belpre Annex 
they thought the St. Martin Cottage might be the 
place, and the nurses at the St. Martin Cottage were 
sure it must be the Grand Hospital he was seeking. 
So he was sent from one place to another without 
gaining much but negative replies. 

The driver of the motor cycle, a very obliging 
young man, helped as much as possible, but with the 
same result. There was one place to which every one 
agreed that many new patients had come lately. 
This was Provisional Hospital No. 5, strictly an 
emergency hospital, consisting of a series of long 
wooden huts, and containing nearly a thousand 
patients in all. 

Billy finally felt sure that his man must be in No. 
5. The ward masters and nurses agreed that most of 
their patients were newcomers. They looked over the 
registration cards without finding any name resem- 
bling Banks, but they admitted that the men were so 
new that they could say little about them from per- 
sonal knowledge. 

The huts were crowded and rather dirty and 
noisy. They had less to recommend them than any 
hospital ward that Billy had seen. But he spent 


124 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

time enough in them to go through each section and 
make repeated inquiries for James Banks. He 
found three Englishmen and two Americans, but 
none of them acknowledged the name. 

At last Billy was ready to leave Doulon and its 
hospitals in despair. Yet he hated to give up, for 
certainly this was the logical place for his man. 

“ I just can’t give up ! ” he said to his driver. 
“ I’ve just thought of something I’d like to try. It 
will do some good, an)rway. Can the side car carry 
two persons? I want to go back and get Miss 
Friend, the singer, to come out here. She can do 
more on this case than I can.” 

You and she are both small,” said the driver, 
‘‘ and I think the car will carry both of you.” 

Miss Friend was easily found and very willing to 
come. She had come to France for just such work 
as this. 

Start in this ward,” said Billy, leading the way 
to the ward where he had found the Englishmen and 
the two Americans. 

The minute the singer began, the ward became 
silent. Very soon Billy noticed a crowd gathering 
around the doorway, consisting of infirmierSj order- 
lies, and patients from other wards. He stepped 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 125 

quietly to the door and beckoned the waiting ones 
outside. 

‘‘ Miss Friend is singing for soldiers of the 
French Army who are Americans/’ he said. ‘‘ Who 
among you have Americans in your wards ? ** 

From the responses Billy made his selection for 
the next concert. To his great disappointment, 
however, he found the ward to be one already 
visited. 

He looked eagerly at the man who claimed to be 
an American, but knew at a glance that he was too 
old a man to be the one he sought. Still it was all 
right. At least he would get much pleasure from 
Miss Friend’s singing. She was singing ‘‘The 
Long, Long Trail,” and the melody and pathos that 
she put into it made Billy quite homesick. The 
French soldiers, though they could not understand 
the words, followed every inflection of her voice. 
And there was one young fellow, just three beds 
from Billy’s position, whose face twitched as if he 
knew it all. Billy suspected that he not only under- 
stood the words, but that they were affecting him 
deeply. 

Billy watched this boy closely. He watched 
him through “ Keep the Home Fires Burning ”, 
and he saw tears gather in the tired, sick eyes. And 


126 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

when the singer turned to “ Over There the man 
cautiously raised the arm that was not bandaged and 
furtively wiped away the tears with the back of his 
hand. 

Billy’s mind was made up. 

“ Star-Spangled Banner ! ” he whispered to Miss 
Friend, approaching the sick man’s cot. 

At the very first line the young soldier raised 
himself in bed in an attempt at “ attention.” 

‘‘ Sing ! ” shouted Billy to him. ‘‘ It’ll do you 
good.” 

Scarcely was the anthem ended before Billy was 
at the soldier’s side. He saw the name at the head 
of the bed — Jacques Barbier — but that did not 
deter him. The name might be French, but not the 
man. 

‘‘ Now tell me, James Banks,” he asked, why 
did you let me go right by you this morning.” 

‘‘Ashamed ! ” whispered the boy. “ I have been 
hiding under my mother’s name — Barber. I came 
to France to do glorious things, and I’m nothing but 
a wounded poilu. I knew some one would be look- 
ing for me as soon as Captain Bell told that he had 
seen me, and I decided I wouldn’t be found until I 
had done something. But I couldn’t stand those 


Keep The Home Fires Burning 127 

songs. They made me homesick for my own people 
and my own country.” 

“ I’m awfully glad,” said Billy. ‘‘And Fm sure 
your country wants you now as badly as you want 
her. There’s nothing like the good old U. S. A., is 
there? I’m mighty glad Miss Friend came to sing 
for you.” 

“ It’s the finest music I ever heard ! ” exclaimed 
James Banks. 

“ You’ll be able to hear that kind of music every 
day now,” said Billy. “ Maybe Miss Friend will 
sing some more for you right now while she is wait- 
ing for me. I have to run off for a little while and 
see if I can telephone to Tours.” And Billy sought 
out the singer, who was making as many friends 
with her pleasing manner as with her rousing songs. 


CHAPTER XI 


BILLY RESCUES A GENERAL 

Although Scout Billy Ransom had had many 
adventures, such as being in a submarine attack, 
being knocked senseless by a military car, unearth- 
ing a German spy, and traveling alone on French 
railway trains and through large French cities, he 
never had really considered that he had been in a 
place of danger until he went to the front with 
General L. 

They started from Nantes. The general had 
come there in his touring car, after Billy had found 
his nephew for him. On the way back he expected 
to visit and inspect several posts where American 
troops were stationed. Since Billy was now due in 
Paris to live with Aunt Ella again, and the General’s 
ultimate objective was Paris, he invited Billy to 
travel with him. You fellows can guess if Billy 
accepted. 

A general’s car may be any kind of vehicle that 
128 


Billy Rescues a General 129 

a general can ride in, but usually it is a very good 
car. This one was. When a brigadier general is 
the occupant, the car shows one star, signifying his 
rank; when a major general, it shows two. This 
car carried one star. 

Billy was very proud and happy riding along the 
splendid French roads through the beautiful country 
m such glorious weather. It was the most delight- 
ful part of his experiences in France. He rode in 
the front seat with Dick Holcomb, the chauffeur, 
and the General rode in the rear seat, alone with his 
thoughts and his dignity. 

They made their first stop at Angers — pro- 
nounced Anzhay — in less than two hours. It is a 
brisk business city. Billy had a couple of hours in 
which to explore it and did a lot in the time. Then 
the little party went on to LeMans, where they 
stayed all night. They did not start very early, but 
reached Chartres before evening and spent not only 
the night but all of the next day there. This was 
seeing France in splendid style. Their next stop was 
at Mantes, which is a little west and a little north of 
Paris. 

I suppose we’ll shoot right down to Paris from 
here,” surmised Dick. That’s what the General 
did the last time we came this way.” 


130 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

But just as they were about to start for Paris 
next morning, the General received word that 
decided him to go on up to Beaumont. 

‘‘You need not go with us, Billy,” he said. “I 
can easily get a ride for you on to Paris from here.” 

“ But I’d hate awfully to miss it, sir,” said Billy. 

“ Well, if you want to, I guess it is safe enough.” 

So Billy continued the trip. 

They had nowhere near reached Beaumont, 
however, before they were met by a “ runner ” who 
had come out from that town on a motor cycle, with 
an important message. He had come to meet the 
General and thus save time and distance for him. 

“ You are wanted at Chateau-Thierry as soon as 
you can get there, sir,” he informed the General. 
“ You need not go on to Beaumont. This road that 
turns east will take you nearly direct, and cut the 
mileage considerably.” 

Billy saw the General cast a doubtful look in his 
direction. 

“ Please don’t bother about me, sir,” he said. 
“ Let me stay; there will be lots of good safe places 
to leave me before you get into the danger zone.” 

“ Well, I guess you are just as safe traveling 
with us as staying here,” said the General. “We 
shall be passing cars going to Paris when we get a 


Billy Rescues a General 131 

little farther along, and I shall get one of them to 
take you in.’" 

But there was a lot of artillery activity in that 
territory that day, and cars going to Paris seemed 
to shun the road. 

They had been hearing the dull boom of big guns 
all day. Now it increased in volume and sharpened 
in tone. The roads began to show signs of shell 
explosions too recent for repair. And all of a sud- 
den Billy heard the faint whir of an airplane and, 
not so very high above them, he could see in the sky 
a swiftly moving object far too large for any bird. 

Billy was so frightened that he had to use great 
effort to control his voice enough to tell Dick what 
he had seen. 

“ Yes, I know,’’ said Dick. “ It is probably a 
German bomber. Don’t pay any attention to it, and 
very likely it won’t trouble us. Usually they have 
more important business than droppin’ their eggs 
on just a lone auto. I have had any number pay 
me more attention than we are getting from that 
chap.” 

Billy felt a little better at this assurance, and tried 
to imitate the unconscious attitude of Dick and the 
General. When he did look up, though, the plane 
was so low that he could easily see the cross that 


132 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

was misused by the Germans as a device for mark- 
ing their military craft. 

Just ahead of them was a bridge that spanned a 
stream of considerable size. It had evidently been 
damaged by shell fire or bombs. The iron railing 
was twisted so that it lay across the bridge and quite 
barred their passage. 

‘‘ I guess I can lift that off,” said Dick. He 
stopped the car and ran toward the bridge. The 
plane above them seemed to come lower down. 
Even the General seemed worried. 

“ You stay here, Billy,” said he. I’m going 
down to help him clear that wreckage. We must 
move quick. There’s no telling when that fellow 
may let fly at us.” 

The General ran to the bridge and Billy watched 
the two men tugging and pulling violently to clear 
the obstacle from the road. He dared not look up, 
but he knew from the sound of the plane that it 
must be very close. He kept his eyes glued on his 
two companions working at the bridge for very life, 
and his breath came more freely as he saw them, at 
last, raise the barrier and push it to one side. 

But his congratulations were premature. He saw 
no bomb drop, though he still heard the plane. It 
seemed farther away now. And then suddenly came 


Billy Rescues a General 133 

a terrific explosion, as if the whole world rose up 
in a confused whirl just ahead of him. He closed 
his eyes as he felt falling fragments striking him 
sharply, and pieces of the shattered wind shield cut- 
ting his hands and face. 

He opened his eyes in a moment. Through a 
cloud of (Just he could dimly see the General stag- 
gering to his feet and groping for something to 
hold on to. Billy thought no more of his own cuts 
and bruises. He jumped out of the car and picked 
his way along the broken road to the injured offi- 
cer’s support. 

I can’t see ! ” groaned the General. ‘‘ Did he 
get the car? ” 

‘‘ No,” Billy assured him. ‘‘ It seems all right 
except for the wind shield and the top. Let me help 
you back.” 

Once the General was seated, Billy ran back to 
look for Dick. His search was short. The poor 
boy lay dead at the very entrance to the bridge he 
had just cleared. The bridge still stood, seemingly 
little injured. Most of the damage had been borne 
by the road between the bridge and the car, though 
Billy could see that it was still possible to drive cau- 
tiously around it. 

‘‘ Poor Dick ! ” cried Billy, as he knelt beside 


134 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

him, the tears streaming down his face. He had 
seen death before, but not the sudden death of bat- 
tle. It shocked and awed him, but it also strength- 
ened his purpose. 

“ I must get that car along,” he said. The Gen- 
eral needs help. The bomber may come back to see 
what has happened here.” 

Tenderly he removed Dick’s “tin hat” and put 
it upon his own head. He also took his gas mask 
and his overcoat. In his pocket he found an old 
watch, a pocketbook, and some letters, which he 
transferred to his own pocket. He would send them 
home some day. Then he straightened out the 
body by the side of the road, tenderly kissed his 
dead comrade upon the forehead, and went back to 
the car. 

The General had collapsed in the back of the car 
and seemed to be unconscious, but as Billy tried 
to examine him, he revived. 

“ I must get to* Chateau-Thierry, Billy,” he said. 
“ Fm- beginning to be able to see a little now. But 
leave me just as I am, and tell Dick to get along to 
Chateau-Thierry as quickly as possible.” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Billy. “ Let me throw this 
coat over you. We can get over the bridge all right 


now. 


Billy Rescues a General 135 

Billy had driven his father’s car at home over all 
kinds of country roads, but never had he essayed 
such a delicate task as that involved in crossing the 
stretch of shell-torn earth that lay between him and 
the bridge. There was one place where the left 
wheels seemed to turn in space and the car tipped 
so that it was hard to stay at the driver’s wheel. At 
another place it dropped in such a sickening way 
that it seemed as if all progress must stop. Gravel 
and stones rolled away down the embankment as if 
inviting the car to follow. But it got across at last, 
crossed the bridge, and started along the level 
country road. 

Billy was thankful that he still had daylight and 
a level road ahead of him. It was no time to be 
circumspect. Excepting for slacking down for 
corners and rough places, he ran at top speed. He 
heard no more of the German plane. Either the 
bomber had been scared away or had thought the 
damage enough. 

Half an hour of this traveling forced Billy to 
slow down. He had reached rough roads, roads in 
which shell holes were many, roads that had been 
cut up by the passage of artillery and heavy trucks. 
It would not do to race along these, even if it were 
possible. 


136 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

'"Are you comfortable, sir?” he asked of the 
General, who was now lying down on the rear seat. 

Much better, Billy,” was the reply. I can’t 
see much yet, and don’t dare to try, but I’m sure it 
is only shock.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir. We shall go slower now because we 
are getting on the military road.” 

Billy’s passenger made no reply. He seemed to 
have dropped into a stupor. 

At the next crossing Billy came to an intelligence 
post. Two men of the military police were there. 

Take him on to Chateau-Thierry,” the corporal 
advised. “ You’ll get help for him there easier than 
anywhere else. An’ say, kid, lemme wipe that blood 
off your face so you won’t look so ghastly.” 

Billy had forgotten the cuts on his face. He knew 
that there were cuts on his hands because they had 
bled into the gloves that he had pulled on and stif- 
fened there. Every time that a jog in the road 
twisted the wheel, it pulled the cuts open and hurt 
him. 

The General seemed to be asleep and did not 
notice that the car had stopped. Billy did not dis- 
turb him. He drove more slowly now but it was 
easier travel because he had the relief of meeting a 


Billy Rescues a General 137 

car or truck occasionally and of knowing that our 
men were operating in this zone. 

He was treated with every encouragement by the 
guards and military police whom he met, but all of 
them had their own duties to occupy them; there 
was never one who seemed able to leave his job and 
go on with Billy, even though he was driving a 
wounded general. 

There was one stretch of about two miles of road 
that was under constant shell fire. Billy would 
have given worlds to have company over that road. 
He had heard descriptions given of the whir of the 
shells overhead and the various sounds they made, 
but all of the comparisons fell short of the real 
thing. To him they sounded like an express train 
rushing through a country station, just one track 
away. Fortunately only one or two burst any- 
where near him and the road remained compara- 
tively unobstructed. 

It was quite dark before he reached Chateau- 
Thierry, but there were enough friendly M. P.^s to 
give directions so that he had no trouble. At last, 
as he entered the village, one of them really did 
climb up with him to show him just where to go. 

Billy told about his adventure as briefly as pos- 


138 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

sible, and about the wounded officer in the rear of 
the car. 

“ Then we’ll run direct to the hospital,” said the 
cheery M. P. ‘‘ No, not here! Take the next turn- 
ing. There’s the place! Pull up here, and I’ll go 
right in and tell them what you’ve got here.” 

Billy stopped his car. He heard the M. P. go into 
the hospital. He heard people come out. He heard 
some one fumbling around in the back seat. He 
heard a lot of talking in far-away voices. But he 
did not turn his head. 

Some one tapped him on the arm. 

“ Go ahead, driver,” said the voice. The officer 
will be taken care of. You can put your car away.” 

Then as his hands relaxed from the steering 
wheel and he felt himself falling, falling, falling, he 
could faintly hear a surprised voice crying out, 
‘‘ Why it’s just a mere boy ! ” 

Now don’t think that Billy lay for days uncon- 
scious and then woke up to find himself a hero. 
Nothing of the kind. He came to himself not very 
long after, as some one was trying to pull off his 
stiffened gloves, and in doing so was tearing open 
the cuts on his hands. He was in the surgical ward 
of the hospital. The gloves came away after 
a while. The cuts weren’t so very bad when they 


Billy Rescues a General 139 

were cleaned and bandaged. In half an hour Billy 
was in a nice clean bed, very happy to be there, and 
convinced that he had had enough adventure to last 
him for a thousand years. 

“ I telephoned to the Paris address you' gave me,” 
said a young medical officer. ‘^Your aunt wasn’t 
worrying about you, because she supposed you were 
still with the 199th. However, they’re glad to hear 
about you. If a pass can be secured, some one will 
be up to see you to-morrow.” 

Next day the “ some one ” came, and to Billy’s 
great surprise and joy, it was his father. Doctor 
Ransom had finished his mission to Serbia and 
returned to Paris earlier than had been expected. 

‘‘As for you, Billy,” he said, “ I think* you must 
now settle down in Paris and take care of Aunt 
Ella. There will be plenty of useful things for you 
to do in Paris without quite so much risk.” 

“ Don’t think that I’m likely to go hunting for 
that kind of thing again very soon!” said Billy. 
“ It chaps the hands too much.” 

He grinned as he looked at the big snowballs of 
white bandages that showed where his hands were 
hidden. Then his face saddened. 

“ Poor old Dick! ” he sighed. “ Do you know if 
they have brought him in yet ? ” 


140 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ Yes, he was brought in this morning and will 
be buried to-morrow. The General hopes to be able 
to attend the funeral and hopes that you will ride 
with him. Now that his shock has passed, he can 
see again.” 

Billy had a sad hour at that funeral. He knew 
Dick well enough to know that he was one of those 
soldiers who look for orders to the Great Comman- 
der, and that even now he was with the great army 
of heroes whose duty has been nobly done; so there 
was joy even in the sadness. 

A few days later Billy and Dr. Ransom left for 
Paris, where Billy was to live with his aunt until the 
Doctor was released from war service. And 
although Billy Ransom was still a true scout and 
had many more adventures, he had none that 
brought him into greater risk than the one in which 
he rescued a general. 


CHAPTER XII 


UNDER FIRE 

When Billy Ransom was safely placed on duty 
in Paris at Red Cross Headquarters, Dr. Ransom, 
his father, felt quite comfortable about him. Dr. 
Ransom felt that he could now go anywhere that 
his orders might take him, with a mind at ease. For 
after the many adventures Billy had gone through, 
life in Paris would be tame and safe. 

Billy thought the same way, but he was not dis- 
posed to grumble. It was a tremendous chance to 
be over in France at all, with such big things going 
on. There were American soldiers in Paris all the 
time now, and hardly an hour passed without giving 
Billy a chance to do a good turn to one of them, for 
the boys did get sadly mixed up in their assaults 
upon this foreign language. Then, too, Paris was 
not without excitement. The enemy’s long-distance 
gun was proving to doubters that the city was not 
altogether off the firing line, and no one could tell 

141 


142 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

when bombing planes or Zeppelins might drop 
destruction from the clouds. 

Who should come blundering along one morning, 
inquiring everywhere in loud tones for Billy Ran- 
som, Boy Scout, but Sergeant Major McGiffon, of 
the 199 th. 

Billy was so glad to see him that he adopted 
French greetings. He threw his arms around the 
neck of the big Sergeant and hugged him. 

“ You sure look good to me, Billy ! ” McGiffon 
assured him. ‘‘And it sounds mighty good to hear 
your parleyvoo, too. I know, now, that IVe got 
hold of somebody that can take care of all the 
inshoots and curves and fast deliveries that any one 
handling this French lingo can put over the plate. 
First of all, I want you to take me to see Phil.’’ 

“Phil! Is he in Paris?” 

“ Yes, along with some more of our boys. The 
old 199th has been in hot work since we left you. 
Some of the boys have paid all the debt to France 
they ever can pay. Some of the others are in the 
hospital.” 

“And Phil is in the hospital ? ” 

“ That’s what they say. I’ve only seen him once 
since just before we went over. I says: ‘Are you 
all right, Phil?’ He says: ‘You remember that 


Under Fire 


143 


Frenchwoman, that Madame Gazin? ’ I told him I 
did. * Well,’ he says, ‘ I’m going to do all I prom- 
ised.’ After that I only saw him once for just a 
few minutes. But I’ve heard a whole lot. I’ve 
heard his citation read, and everywhere they tell me 
I have got ‘ a brother to be proud of.’ ” 

“ Is he badly hurt? ” 

“ I don’t know, but I hope he won’t be crippled. 
It would be pretty hard on Phil to be a cripple.” 

Phil’s hospital was many miles beyond the city. 
There was a long trip underground on the Metro; 
a change to an electric line, and then a walk of 
several miles. 

It was an American hospital. In the A. E. F. 
hospitals a relative had no difficulty about seeing a 
patient, so the boys were allowed to enter the ward 
without delay. Billy had been in many hospitals, 
both in France and at home, so the experience was 
no novelty for him. But it happened that this was 
Sergeant McGiffion’s first experience. 

It happened also that the surgeon was in the act 
of dressing Phil’s injuries, and that the raw, ugly 
wounds lay exposed to view. 

Billy looked up and saw the white, sick look on 
the Sergeant’s face. With prompt action he pushed 


144 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the big fellow down on an empty bed just in time 
to keep him from falling to the floor. 

There followed a period of confusion. The nurse 
left her dressings for a moment to assist Billy with 
his unconscious friend, but the doctor kept on at his 
work. Phil was greatly distressed, and some of the 
wounded men in the other beds looked and spoke 
their disgust at such conduct. 

It was all over in a moment. Sergeant McGif- 
fon sat up on the bed, his face resuming a natural 
color. 

“ Pm an awful coward/’ he confessed. 

You certainly are!” said Phil. '‘You fellows 
take my word for it, he is. This is Sergeant Major 
William McGiffon, buddies. Some of you wanted 
to read my citation the other day when it came. 
W ell, here it is. But my name isn’t the whole show 
by any means. It says also : ' Battalion Sergeant 
Major William McGiffon, for unusual gallantry in 
action; in that, at extreme peril to his own life, he 
advanced beyond our lines for the purpose of rescu- 
ing wounded men of his regiment, and, one after 
the other, brought from an exposed position to 
safety four wounded privates of the 199th.’ I was 
one of those privates, buddies, so I know exactly 


Under Fire 145 

what kind of coward this fellow is. Jackson, over 
there, is another.’’ 

Sure thing! ” piped up Jackson. “All the old 
199th needs is about a dozen more cowards like 
Sarge, an’ we’ll go right on to Berlin an’ settle this 
fuss up all on our own.” 

“ Now, calm down, you boys,” interrupted the 
surgeon. “ You’re excited about nothing. Every 
one knows that the nerve centers that control faint- 
ing have nothing to do with bravery or cowardice. 
If you can’t visit without a big fuss. I’ll have to put 
the company out of the ward.” 

As Billy and the Sergeant Major traveled back 
to the city they were a strangely subdued couple. 
Billy was thinking about Phil McGiffon. Here he 
was, a mere boy, only a couple of years older than 
Billy himself, and he was a hero. 

Sergeant McGiffon, who had won these very hon- 
ors for himself, held them but lightly. He was 
overwhelmed by the fact that he had fainted and 
had made a fuss in a hospital. Gladly would he 
have sacrificed his battle-field honors to the cause 
of wiping out that stain. He felt that the humilia- 
tion would never be effaced. 

Thus by very different routes these two arrived 
at a condition of mind that disturbed their usual 


146 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

balance of sanity and prepared them for foolish 
action that in saner moments they might well have 
shunned. 

Part of the sergeant’s business was an errand for 
Captain Burnett, the division intelligence officer. It 
seemed that the interpreter spy, M. Marson, had 
been clever enough to escape again after his arrest 
at Tours. The French authorities at Paris had a man 
under observation whom they believed to be Mar- 
son. Before taking any action they would like Cap- 
tain Burnett to see him. It was out of the question 
for the captain to make the trip to Paris, but McGif- 
fon could identify Marson just as well. So this 
was one of the Sergeant’s errands, and the one they 
undertook after leaving the hospital. 

They arrived at the bureau early in the afternoon. 

‘‘This man, Marson! Yes, it is like his impu- 
dence to be here in Paris,” said the officer in charge. 
“We can bring him in any day, but, then, again, 
why bring him in? He is at a little cafe, Rue de 
Cheval Blanc. We will send you with an officer. 
You dine at the cafe. We desire to know only if 
the man is the bogus interpreter. Wait ! An officer 
soon will come to bear you company.” 

Billy and Sergeant McGiffon waited. One hour, 
two hours, three hours they waited. 


Under Fire 147 

‘‘ What’s the idea, Billy ? Why are we waiting 
here like a couple of kids ? ” 

Sergeant McGiffon was still sore from his recent 
humiliation. 

‘‘ Seems this Rue de Cheval Blanc is in a pretty 
tough place, Sarge,” exclaimed Billy. From what 
they say I judge it is a regular nest of spies and 
sneaks and thugs. A man’s life there seems to have 
a market value of about six bits. So we must wait 
until we get an escort who will be able to protect 
us.” 

“ I don’t want any better protection than this 
American uniform I’ve got on, and what is inside 
of it,” protested McGiffon. 

‘‘ I’m not afraid to trust myself to you,” said 
Billy. 

‘‘ Well, let’s not waste any more golden hours in 
this den of thief catchers. My leave ends to-mor- 
row. Let’s get this job done so that we can enjoy 
ourselves.” 

“All right,” said Billy. “ I’m not afraid. I guess 
I can find the way to that cafe in Rue de Cheval 
Blanc.” 

After crossing bridges and going through tunnels 
and climbing steps and descending other steps they 
did find Rue de Cheval Blanc. And having found 


148 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the street, their search was ended, for it contained 
only one cafe. 

How about this M. Marson person being scared 
away when he sees us coming? ’’ asked McGiffon. 

“ Not likely,’"’ said Billy. “ Fm not wearing my 
Scout suit, so Fm just an ordinary French boy, and 
American soldiers are everywhere in Paris nowa- 
days. See, there’s one across the street now ! Mar- 
son didn’t know you, did he ? ” 

No, he never had any dealings with me. I knew 
him because he was our interpreter. But to him I 
was just like any of the other boys.” 

‘‘ Safe enough,” said Billy. The French offi- 
cers wouldn’t have suggested our going to the cafe 
if they had not felt pretty sure that we wouldn’t be 
conspicuous.” 

It was growing quite dark. The blinds of the 
cafe were drawn in accordance with regulations, so 
the boys could not look in through the windows. 
When they entered they found a place that looked 
fairly comfortable, in spite of its dismal exterior. 
Two or three groups were at dinner. An Ameri- 
can soldier sat at one table drinking cognac. 

‘‘ Come on, Billy, order some dinner,” urged 
McGiffon. ‘‘ Fm hungry.” 

And when the dinner was served, the waiter who 


Under Fire 149 

brought it was M. Marson! There could be no 
doubt whatever ! 

Billy saw him coming from the other end of the 
room. 

** There he is now I ’’ he announced to McGiffon, 
whose back was turned. “ Don’t even glance at 
him. Talk to me as if I were a French boy guide.” 

“ We might as well eat a little before we go,” 
said McGiffon, when the waiter had departed. I 
don’t suppose he has poisoned our food.” 

** We can’t do anything else but eat,” said Billy, 
“ unless we want to give the whole thing away. I 
wish that doughboy over there wouldn’t talk so 
much and drink so much. I’m afraid he’s going to 
get into trouble.” 

One o’ these S. O. S. boys who knows Just 
exactly who’s winning this war, I guess,” said 
McGiffon. I heard him tell one of those Frenchies 
a few minutes ago that the French had been in the 
War nearly four years and hadn’t done as much as 
one division of American troops could do in four 
weeks.” 

He doesn’t understand what the Frenchmen are 
saying to him, but I do,” whispered Billy. ‘‘ They’re 
getting pretty much excited.” 


150 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

A few minutes later it was evident that the dis- 
pute was reaching the fighting pitch. 

Sergeant McGiffon left his place and walked over 
to the soldier. 

‘‘ Better quit, buddie,” he advised. ‘‘ This stuff 
you’re drinking is making you too big for your skin. 
Better go out and cool off, before you explode.” 

‘‘ What’s it to you ? ” said the boy. ‘‘ I don’t 
belong to your outfit.” 

'Are you sure of that? ” queried McGiffon. " My 
outfit’s the United States Army. I guess you belong 
to that.” 

The Frenchmen, conscious of the fact that their 
opponent was being rebuked, broke in with a loud 
clamor. 

“ Be quiet now, be quiet ! ” shouted McGiffon. 

This boy’s going home.” 

But the boy was past reason. In his anger at the 
interference he threw his glass at one of the French- 
men and cut the man’s face. Instantly there was a 
wild clamor. The whole roomful assailed the two 
soldiers, and from every side doors seemed to open 
and pour out new combatants. 

Billy, endeavoring to reach McGiffon’s side, 
found himself seized from behind. His two arms 
were held in a vicelike grip and he was hurried 


Under Fire 


151 


through one of the side doors into a narrow passage 
from which he was shoved along interminable dark 
stairways apparently leading up to the highest roofs 
of Paris. Then he was shoved into a dark little 
room. The door was shut with a slam that indi- 
cated a spring lock, and he was left alone. 

Billy was more mad than scared. He imagined 
how quickly these Frenchmen would let him go 
when they discovered that he was an American Boy 
Scout. They would wish no chance of such a 
search as would be raised for his recovery. 

Then Billy had a second thought. Just now they 
took him for a French boy, just a boy from the 
street who was acting as a guide to an American 
soldier. But the minute they learned who he was, 
this man Marson would know everything. He 
would know that he was suspected. He would 
know that the secret-service men were on his 
trail. And all their plans would be upset because of 
M. Marson’s knowledge. 

So there was only one thing to do about it. Billy 
must remain a French boy and get out of captivity 
the best way that he could. 

The door opened in a few minutes and a big, 
brutal man entered. 


152 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ Give me all the money the soldier gave you/’ 
he demanded. 

“He had not paid me/^ replied Billy. “I have 
only six francs.” 

“You lie!” shouted the man. “Give me the 
money! ” 

He raised threateningly an ugly looking -whip. 
Now was Billy’s time to declare his identity. This 
man would not dare to lay his whip upon an Ameri- 
can. But Billy remembered. It would be carried 
to M. Marson at once. He remained silent. 

Slash! The big whip came down across Billy 
Ransom’s back. Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! 

His body quivered and writhed with pain. He 
was taking wounds for which his name would never 
appear in a citation, nor would he be entitled to 
wound stripes. But he bore them without a cry. 

“ So ! You are stubborn,” said the man. “ Very 
well ! Twenty-four hours in this room without food 
will change you. Up there in the roof is the sky- 
light. It is open.” 

He laughed over his excellent joke as he left the 
room, for the skylight was twelve feet from the 
floor. 

But Billy looked at that skylight with interest. 
The moon shone through it in a friendly way. Billy 



‘‘Give me all the money the soldier gave you.” 

Page IS2. 


I 


I 


% 





Under Fire 


153 


gathered the furniture of the room together and 
managed to reach the opening. Next door was a 
similar skylight opening into a room with an open 
door. Billy dropped through, alighted on his feet, 
ran lightly downstairs and out into the street. 

A' big crowd was gathered a few doors away, and 
from its midst Billy could hear the voice of Ser- 
geant McGiffon telling in emphatic English what he 
would do to the proprietor of the cafe if his boy 
guide were not produced forthwith. 

“ Here I am, Sarge ! ” he shouted, running 
quickly over. 

‘‘ It's good that you came," said McGiffon. 
‘‘ What have you been doing all this time ? " 

“ Nothing much," said Billy. ‘‘J^st trying to see 
if rd win a citation if 1 ever got under fire." 


CHAPTER XIII 


WOUNDED IN ACTION 

Billy Ransom had no business getting wounded. 
He admitted that. But since his wound came while 
he was going along doing his duty and staying in 
the place where he was supposed to stay, he did not 
feel so very bad about it. The wound hurt plenty, 
but Billy had long ago passed the place where he 
was terrified about a little hurt. Wounded soldiers 
had often told him they scarcely knew that they 
were hit when the wound came, and that there was 
a lot more pain in the dressing that followed. And 
of course any fellow could stand a dressing being 
done. 

You see, Billy was in Paris in that sadly depress- 
ing period about the end of May and beginning of 
June, 1918, when everything seemed to be going 
wrong. The Germans had made their big drive of 
May 27 to June 1, and had actually arrived within 
forty miles of Paris. Chateau-Thierry was in their 

154 


Wounded in Action 


155 


possession, and so was the smaller town of Vaux. 
From Hill 204 their artillery could command the 
Paris road, so that it was very hazardous to make 
any movement of troops in the daytime. 

It was at this time that the Second Division of the 
A. E. F. was yanked from its training area and 
thrown in to stem the tide of oncoming German 
advance. And it is now a matter of history that 
they did it. 

But Billy Ransom did not know anything much 
about the Second Division. He did know that his 
old friends of the 199th were attached to it. But 
army movements were so secret that Billy had no 
idea where they were, and not the faintest suspicion 
that they were so near. 

The way Billy got into the affair was through a 
perfectly legitimate Red Cross order. It was early 
in June, and among the other things that the Second 
Division had set itself to do was the little job of 
clearing all the German machine-gun nests out of 
Belleau Wood. 

The historic Belleau Wood is not such a very big 
affair, judged by what Billy knew of woods in 
America. It is about two kilometers in length, from 
north to south, and has an average width of a little 
more than a kilometer. At this time — before it 


156 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

was fought over — it contained a great deal of thick 
undergrowth. Its value to the Germans was as a 
place of concealment for the assembly of infantry 
and machine guns to continue their attack. They 
had thrown in a regiment of infantry and large 
numbers of trench mortars and machine guns. To 
the north they had heavy guns that would protect 
against an attack upon the wood. 

But General Bundy, the commanding general of 
the Second Division, had no thought of allowing 
this hornet’s nest to stay there and send forth its 
harassing attacks upon the movements of his troops. 
He realized also that the wood might be used as a 
point of attack to force his army off the Paris road, 
the avenue of all supplies, and leave him with the 
river Marne at his back. This would hardly be a 
secure position. 

So, fully realizing the costly fight that lay before 
him, he decided that the clearance of Belleau Wood 
was of paramount importance and laid his plans 
accordingly. 

Among those plans was an order to Paris to send 
up ten motor ambulances. The regular road was so 
crowded with the movement of supply and ammuni- 
tion trucks, it seemed likely that better time could 
be made by abandoning the main road in favor of 


Wounded in Action 157 

some less direct routes which would allow of more 
open passage. 

‘‘ I think I can get along all right by following 
this road map,” said the sergeant in charge. “ But 
it would be awfully handy to have some one along 
who can parleyvoo.” 

So Billy was summoned from Red Cross Head- 
quarters and appointed as official interpreter for the 
convoy of ten ambulances. 

A’s it happened, Billy’s services were very much 
in demand in making inquiries as to direction. The 
road map had been prepared for automobile tour- 
ists in days before there was any war. But since 
that time, bridges had been blown up ; old roads had 
been abandoned and new ones had been made; the 
country had taken on an entirely new face. 

As they drew near to their destination they met 
pitiful streams of refugees. They had been forced 
off the main roads by the constant passage of supply 
trucks as well as by their fear of the guns that kept 
up an infrequent bombardment, even at night. 
Billy was glad to be able to direct these poor, 
trembling fugitives as to the way by which he and 
his party had come. 

At last they reached a place where their traveling 


158 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

could be continued only along the main road. The 
sergeant called a halt. 

“ It is four o^clock/’ he said. Wc want to 
deliver these ambulances safely to the Second Divis- 
ion. So we’ll stop right here and take tea until the 
sun has decided to put itself to bed in the golden 
west, and the little birds that fly overhead and direct 
the Boche artillery have gone to rest.” 

The main roads of France are everywhere very 
good, and particularly so in the neighborhood of 
Paris. Thirteen thousand men had been moved by 
motor trucks over these roads in the two preceding 
nights, but they were in excellent repair, excepting 
for shell holes. 

Just before dark a runner from the Second 
Division came out on a motor cycle to meet them. 

ril show you where the shells have spoiled the 
road,” said he. “ No lights on your cars to-night. 
I have a flash light that I can use where we can’t 
get along without it.” 

It was a weird trip, riding along a shell-torn road 
without other light than that which came from the 
stars. The man on the motor cycle kept moving at 
a fair pace, but when they were obliged to detour 
from the main road on account of shell holes they 


Wounded in Action 159 

could only crawl along, feeling the way as they 
went. 

It was late at night when they reached the Sec- 
ond Division. The surgeons had already sent back 
a great many wounded, but more than enough 
remained to fill the ambulances at once. Only one 
load of badly wounded men needing special oper- 
ative work was to go back to Paris. Billy expected 
to ride back with the driver of that load. 

‘‘ There^s one more man,’’ called a young sur- 
geon, just as the ambulance was starting. He 
won’t take up much room because he’s a sitting case. 
But if his sight is to be saved, he must go to-night.’’ 

There is an old saying to the effect that ‘‘ there’s 
always room for one more.” But after you have 
packed one more ” in at least half a dozen differ- 
ent places, there does come a limit. And it seemed 
that this ambulance had found its limit. 

There’s only one thing to do,” said Billy. He 
must take my place by the driver.” 

‘‘ That sounds like Billy Ransom,” exclaimed the 
man with the bandaged eyes. “That you, Billy?” 

“You’re right, it is!” shouted Billy. “And 
you’re Sergeant Rooney. I’m awfully glad I can 
give you my place.” 

“I know you are, Billy, or I wouldn’t take it,” 


160 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

said Rooney. McGiffon will look after you, 
Billy/’ 

“ I didn’t know that our outfit was here,” said 
Billy. “ I thought these men were all marines.” 

“ No. The Fifth and Sixth Marines are here. 
But so are the Ninth and Twenty-third Infantry 
and the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Machine Gun 
Battalions, as well as some artillery. The 199th 
is loaned as a replacement to the Twenty-third 
Infantry. That’s how we get in. I just got hurt 
to-night while I was coming down after some chow 
for the outfit. And the boys in my mess squad are 
worse hurt than I.” 

“ Too bad, Sarge! Well, you go on to Paris and 
get your eyes fixed. I’ll find McGiffon and get 
along all right. I’ll look you up as soon as I get 
back to Paris.” 

It was all very well for Billy to say that he would 
find Sergeant McGiffon, but he soon found that it 
was more of a job than he anticipated. 

He was beating about from place to place, mak- 
ing inquiries wherever he could, when he was 
attracted by a very pleasant aroma. Pushing his 
way into a small grove he found that the rolling 
kitchens of an entire brigade were strung around 
under its shelter, and scores of men were actively 


Wounded in Action 


161 


at work making coffee and cooking an appetizing 
stew. Standing to one side were several ration carts 
drawn by mules. 

Although the shell fire that reached this spot was 
only desultory, there was a constant noise of 
explosions, and occasionally a hit would be made at 
some near-by point. Most of the mules were as 
placid as if in the barn at home — but not all. 

Just as Billy entered the grove a shrapnel explo- 
sion caused a small stampede. A restive mule, 
dragging his ration cart behind him, ran full tilt 
in Billy’s direction, and he had the good fortune to 
catch and hold the animal just in time to save the 
cart from being wrecked. 

Good work, boy ! ” said a sergeant who ran up 
to help. “ Why, you’re just a kid! ” he exclaimed. 

‘‘ I’m a Boy Scout,” explained Billy. 

What are you doing up here ? ” 

‘‘ I came up with the ambulances. Just now Tm 
looking for Sergeant McGiffon of the 199th.” 

** McGiffon’s outfit is quite a little north of here 
— about three miles, I reckon. I want to send a 
meal up te» them if I can find anybody to drive that 
locoed mule. All we can give ’em is one cooked 
meal in twenty-four hours, an’ it sure is too bad to 
miss that.” 


162 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“And they’re likely to lose it because there’s no 
one to drive the mule ? ” 

“ Not if I can help it, Buddy. But I can only do 
about so much. Fm short-handed. Sergeant 
Rooney — he’s mess sergeant — he ought to send 
a man.” 

** Rooney is wounded and has been sent back to 
Paris,” said Billy. ‘‘ Load up your ration cart with 
as many cans as she’ll carry, and let me try it.” 

‘‘Good boy!” said the sergeant approvingly. 
“ I’ll set you on a little road that will come pretty 
near their place. You can’t go very far wrong 
because there’ll be somebody posted every little 
ways.” 

Fortunately the little road was not so very lonely. 
Much to his surprise, Billy was scarcely frightened 
at all. He had been under shell fire before, so it 
was not an entirely new experience. And he seemed 
like a person whose mental faculties are anesthe- 
tized. The shells screamed overhead, whizzed 
through the trees, struck objects repeatedly; but all 
of Billy’s anxiety seemed centered upon the effect 
that these missiles would have upon the mule. 
Could he keep the animal quiet enough to carry the 
food without too much spilling? The big cans 
swung in their racks, but he felt sure that but little 


Wounded in Action 


163 


was lost. Could he keep the mule’s gyrations under 
control for another half-mile — long enough to 
reach the 199th with an unspilled meal still hot and 
savory ? 

Fortune favored the 199th. They saw him com- 
ing. They did not recognize the driver, but their 
reception of his load was enthusiastic beyond a 
fault. Billy left them to the joyful work of unload- 
ing. He stood quietly by, hoping that some one 
would recognize him, but not until Sergeant 
McGiffon came did any one make a sign. 

‘‘ Billy* Ransom ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘It is! It’s 
Billy! What you doing up here with this ration 
cart ? ” 

Billy gave a brief explanation. 

“ Believe me, you did an act of mercy when you 
turned mule-skinner. These boys haven’t had a good 
meal for a week. We have two hundred men here, 
and all we’ve had lately is our reserve ration — 
hard bread and canned meat. One day they had to 
send us the French ration. Our fellows declared 
it was monkey meat and went hungry rather than 
eat it. This stuff to-night is the best we’ve had 
since we got up here. 

“ Pretty badly scared, eh? ” 

“ Not scared for myself, but for the cart. Now 


164 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

that it's all over, I begin to be scared about myself. 
I don’t feel like going back alone, Sarge. I’d rather 
wait until you are sending somebody in.” 

“ You shall, Billy. To-night you can snuggle 
down beside me. I’ve got a little dugout all to 
myself. And to-morrow I’ll take you back to the 
ambulance station.” 

But that was the night of June 10, and it was for 
the eleventh that the second great attack on Belleau 
Wood was set. Sergeant McGiffon could not leave 
his duties for a moment. He was called away on 
urgent matters and did not come back. 

Billy could see only one logical course of action. 
The mule was there and so was the ration cart. But 
there was no driver. Billy put himself in charge of 
the animal, who now seemed to recognize him as 
his personal attendant, and they picked their way 
back to the rolling kitchens. 

“ You’re the best help I’ve got,” said the officer. 
‘‘ Give me a hand here.” 

So all of that day, while the marines and the 
199th were making history in Belleau Wood, Billy 
was making coffee and slum ” not many miles 
away. 

“ Don’t you want to try to find the 199th again? ” 
asked the mess sergeant that evening. 


Wounded in Action 


165 


And this time Billy Ransom and his mule pene- 
trated the famous fighting ground right into the 
wood itself, for although the Germans were not 
entirely driven out, the American forces were 
victorious and were entrenched to stay. 

Billy had no thought of the journey that he was 
undertaking. He simply followed the trail of the 
company as he could pick it up, and after six miles 
he once more brought nourishment to a tired and 
famished set of men. 

And it was in Belleau Wood, a place to be for- 
ever famous in the history of the American Expedi- 
tionary Forces in the World War that Billy received 
his wound. 

He had arrived safely. The ration cart had been 
unloaded. Then a shell burst a hundred feet away, 
and one of the flying fragments struck the mule. 
He started at a gallop. Billy attempted to stop 
him, but his ungrateful protegee dragged him along 
and pulled the cart over him. 

When Billy was lifted up it was found that he 
had a number of lacerations over the right eye and 
a broken collar bone. The mule was never seen 
again. 

Two days later, in the eye ward of the Paris 
hospital, Billy met Sergeant Rooney. 


166 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“Well, Billy, you've kept your promise," said 
Rooney. “ You said you'd look me up in the hos- 
pital, but I didn't count on you doing it this way. 
Were you wounded in action? " 

“ I'll say I was," said Billy. “ There certainly 
was plenty of action. And yet a veteran like you 
might not call it such. I think I'd rather say that 
my wounds are the result of a drive that I con- 
ducted during the capture of Belleau Wood." 


CHAPTER XIV 


FOURTH OF JULY IN PARIS 

Things were looking pretty well for Billy Ran- 
som on the eventful day that marked the Fourth of 
July, of the year 1918, in Paris. There was a 
glorious hubbub everywhere. Never had the people 
of Paris felt quite so cordial to the American sol- 
diers. They had been learning in the last few weeks 
something of the mettle of these men. 

It was true enough that the German troops were 
near to Paris; they were still encamped along the 
river Marne; the noise of their big guns could still 
be heard in the city. But the Americans had held 
them from further advances; had cleaned them out 
of Belleau Wood; had retaken Bouresches; had 
occupied and kept the ruined town of Vaux. It was 
evident to any one that these Americans were of 
good quality ; that they would do or die. There was 
a feeling of hope. Victory was in the air. It was 
a great day. 


167 


168 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Billy, being a noncombatant, had been sent to the 
beautiful little hospital at Neuilly. There he was 
made much of by the nurses and attendants. His 
broken collar bone was doing very well and the 
bandages would be removed from his eye in another 
day or two. Because he had received his injuries 
in carrying aid to the American troops at Belleau 
Wood he was counted worthy of special honor, and 
so, on this Fourth of July morning, Madame Lyons 
sent her own car to take Billy to see the great 
parade. 

True, this motor car of Madame Lyons was more 
honorable than trustworthy. It had been a good 
machine in August, 1914. It had done some service 
after that, but not very much. Petrol was needed 
for war work; it could not be wasted on pleasure 
cars. The car was not suited to the rough work of 
the army, so it had been laid aside. And to-day, 
for the first time in years, a small amount of fuel 
had been provided and it was placed in commission 
once more in honor of the American Fourth of 

July. 

This arrangement was splendid for Billy. He 
could not safely mingle with the great crowds on 
foot, yet he was very anxious to see the parade and 
to celebrate July the Fourth in proper fashion. 


169 


Fourth of July in Paris 

“If you have room, would you mind giving a 
seat to a wounded American soldier?” Billy asked. 
“ He is a friend of mine, named Sergeant Rooney. 
He was wounded about the time I was hurt, and has 
been in the hospital ever since having his eyes 
treated. He can see now, and he would like to take 
in the parade.” 

So the antique limousine coughed its way around 
to the hospital where Rooney was under treatment, 
and Billy went in to see the ward surgeon about 
getting him a pass. 

Rooney proved to be a great acquisition to the 
party. He was a decided social acquisition, for he 
was as merry as ever, and could now get along very 
well with ordinary French conversation. But he 
brought also to the conveyance the material advan- 
tage of enthroning a wounded American soldier. 
Every one gave the little car consideration and 
finally it was allowed the privilege of a parking 
place on a little alley that overlooked the Champs- 
filysees, where the entire parade would pass in 
review. 

When at last the Stars and Stripes waved proudly 
aloft and the soldiers who represented his own dear 
country marched by, Billy did not join in the 
uproarious cheering that broke from the throng 


170 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

around him. He sat very quietly in his seat, his 
head bared in respect, a bright color flushing his 
cheeks, and his eyes filled with tears that had come 
quite unbidden and unexpected. 

‘‘Ain't it great?" exclaimed Rooney as the pro- 
cession passed. “ I was in Washington last Fourth 
and I saw such a parade as I never expected to see 
again in my life. But it didn't compare with this." 

“No parade could," replied Billy. “ This is more 
than a parade. We aren't just shouting here. We 
are answering a mighty question. It's just as if our 
boys had stepped aside a few minutes from Belleau 
Wood and the other places where they've been doing 
their mighty work, long enough to repeat the words 
of the song, ‘Lafayette, We Are Here.’ France 
has been wondering if America was going to do 
anything but talk. To-day we look up from the job 
we are doing just long enough to say, ‘ Here we 
are ! ’ Our part in this is more than a parade ; it's 
a ceremony." 

Rooney clapped Billy on the back and shouted his 
approval in such hearty style that Madame Lyons 
and the young French oflicer, her nephew, laugh- 
ingly asked what could be the matter. 

“ It is Professor Billy," explained Rooney in his 
best French. “He's little, but he has picked out 


171 


Fourth of July in Paris 

the very spirit of this celebration and put it in cap- 
sule form. I’d tell you, but my French isn’t the 
kind that you learned at your school. Get Billy to 
tell you.” 

‘‘ Now that the parade is over we shall drive to a 
quieter place and then he will tell us,” said Madame 
Lyons. 

But they were not destined to drive anywhere 
immediately. The driver manipulated his; spark 
and his gas throttle and gave an energetic spin to 
the crank. Alas, there was no response! Then he 
advanced the spark and tried it again. Still no 
response. Lieutenant Lyons took up the mute chal- 
lenge. The result was the same. Sergeant Rooney 
begged to be allowed to try, but his actual partici- 
pation was not allowed, and his advice went for 
nothing. All of Billy’s experience was at the 
chauffeur’s service, but he seemed singularly disin- 
clined to make use of it. The motor car, having 
been out of the service nearly four years, had appar- 
ently decided that it had done enough for a soft, 
poorly exercised machine on its first day, and had 
struck work. 

There were any number of people to give advice 
and any number to offer assistance, for the mutiny 
of the motor car had occurred in a very crowded 


172 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

quarter. But all of their advice and assistance 
availed nothing. 

But, gentlemen, this will never do,’’ cried an 
excited helper to the crowd. Here on this, their 
own Fourth of July, are we to leave our American 
brothers, brave soldiers, those who have already 
shed their blood for us, to die by a Paris roadside, 
exposed to the heat of our sun and the downpour of 
our rain. Never! I myself will push this machine 
with my own two hands.” 

He suited the action to the word by giving a 
mighty push to the rear of the car. Immediately 
the excited crowd took up the challenge, perhaps 
from a desire to honor the wounded Americans, 
perhaps in sheer merriment. 

The little car was pushed out into the Avenue of 
the Champs-Elysees. Some one procured a cable 
such as is used in towing disabled motor cars, and 
the excited mob propelled the car at a good speed 
along the famous avenue, some pulling at the rope, 
others pushing on the rear and projecting parts. 

Rooney was immensely pleased and laughed and 
shouted with the mob in uproarious fashion. 

I don’t suppose an American soldier ever had 
such a ride as this along this famous avenue,” said 
Billy. It’s like the old times when the crowds 


173 


Fourth of July in Paris 

used to take the horses out of the carriage so that 
they might have the honor of pulling some return- 
ing hero through the streets.” 

“ Fm willing to be a hero for to-day, Billy,” 
agreed Rooney. “ When you’re an old man you 
can tell your grandchildren how the people of Paris 
drew you and Sergeant Rooney beneath the Arc de 
Triomphe while it was still swathed in sandbags for 
protection from German shells.” 

“ It will be something to tell about if the police 
don’t stop the crowd before they get that far,” said 
Billy. 

But the police seemed to have no instructions in 
the matter. If the crowd wanted to honor Ameri- 
can soldiers in celebrating America’s big day let 
them do it. And beneath the celebrated Arc de Tri- 
omphe (de rfitoile) at the head of the great boule- 
vard, the arch was shrouded in sandbags. The 
crowd pushed the old motor car in great enthu- 
siasm. 

Fortunately there was a repair shop but a short 
distance further on, and at the earnest solicitation 
of Lieutenant Lyons they wound up by rolling the 
car into the yard of this establishment. 

They were not all through yet. A Paris crowd 
that made up its mind to honor American heroes in 


174 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the year 1918 was apt to do it very thoroughly. 
They pressed around the car to salute les Ameri- 
cains, and the ardent salutations offered were 
enough to embarrass Billy greatly. Sergeant 
Rooney pretended to enjoy them, but as a means 
of escape he proposed that Billy should make a 
speech. 

“ Yes,’^ agreed Lieutenant Lyons ; “ let him tell 
that interesting thing about the spirit of this cele- 
bration.’’ 

The crowd roared its noisy approval. 

‘‘What is your Fourth of July?” shouted one 
man. “ Why not have it on the Fourteenth of July, 
and join up with France? ” 

“ It is a fine idea,” replied Billy, “ but it could 
not be. The Fourth of July is the birthday of our 
nation. We cannot change our birthday now that 
we are nearly one hundred and fifty years old.” 

“ What do you mean by your birthday? Tell us. 
We do not all know your American history.” 

“We date our birth from the Fourth of July — 
1776 — when the Declaration of Independence was 
voted upon and accepted. Men representing all the 
American colonies signed their names to this decla- 
ration that brought into being the United States of 
America. They were just good, substantial citi- 


175 


Fourth of July in Paris 

zens like you are, merchants, farmers, doctors, law- 
yers. Only two of them were soldiers, but they 
all had fighting blood. They had to have that, for 
it would take more than saying they were free to 
make them free.” 

The little speech seemed to give the crowd some- 
thing to reflect upon, for it was not so noisy. 

“ We are also a republic,” said one. “ Why is it 
that the freedom of France is mentioned but little 
outside of our own country? ” 

“ I wish that I could tell you,” replied Billy. “ I 
am only a boy. If my father were here he could 
answer that. I have heard him say that many 
countries have fought for freedom, but their aim 
has not been much higher than to secure property 
rights, the right to vote, the right to hold office. I 
do not say that France is among those countries, but 
perhaps she is. 

‘‘ You see, the Pilgrim Fathers went to America 
because they wanted to be free to worship God. 
They put up with all kinds of hardships to get the 
kind of freedom they wanted. It was a long time 
afterward that the colonies decided to break with 
England, but the people were still very much like 
the early Pilgrims. They honored both God and His 
people, and showed that the whole spirit of Ameri- 


176 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

canism was to secure to all men the things with 
which the Creator had endowed them. If men die 
for these things they die well ! ” 

“ They do ! ’’ declared a voice, ‘‘And our Amer- 
ican brothers are dying with our own men that we 
all may live. Vive les Americains! Vive VAmer- 
iqueV' 

The crowd melted away. The little car was will- 
ing to work again, for its trouble had been nothing 
more than a clogged supply pipe. The chauffeur’s 
cranking was rewarded by a good, clear song from 
the engine with never a cough, and the car started 
its homeward journey. 

“ That was a fine little speech you made, my little 
scout,” said Lieutenant Lyons. 

“ It was just something I have heard my father 
say,” said Billy. 

“ It is a great truth,” said the lieutenant. “ You 
Americans have brave men and so have we.” 

“ I’m finding it out better every day,” said Billy. 

“ Here, too,” declared Sergeant Rooney. “ I’m 
not a philosopher, like my friend Billy ; I’m just an 
ordinary American doughboy. But I’ve been 
acquiring a whole lot of education since I came to 
France. I’ve been finding out things about my 
French cousins that have made me open my eyes. If 


177 


Fourth of July in Paris 

all of our boys that come over here get as much 
foolish stuff knocked out of their heads as I have, 
and as much new material put in, the people of 
America are going to have some very warm feel- 
ings for the French after we go back.’’ 

They delivered Sergeant Rooney at his hospital 
without further adventure. 

“If you can take me to my aunt’s residence in 
the Avenue de la Madeleine I will stay with her to- 
night,” said Billy. 

“Your aunt is a Frenchwoman?” 

“ She was born in America, but she married a 
French surgeon years ago. He is Major Des- 
champs. He is now at the front.” 

Billy thanked Madame Lyons for the great pleas- 
ure she had given him and said good-by to Lieu- 
tenant Lyons and the chauffeur when he left the 
car. 

He found his aunt packing a traveling bag. She 
was evidently in great distress. 

“ Billy, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she cried. “ I 
am getting ready to leave Paris. Your Uncle Henri 
is reported missing. I cannot believe that he is 
dead. I am going where I can search for him.” 

“ Let me go with you ! ” begged Billy. 

“ No, Billy, you could do no good with me. Your 


178 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

duty is here. I am not complaining, Billy. If 
Henri has sacrificed his life, it is for God and our 
country. But I cannot give up -without making 
sure. But for you, your duty is here.” 

Only a little while before Billy had said to the 
crowd, “ If men die for these things they die well.” 
It had come home, right to his door. Now he must 
be man enough to do his duty. 


CHAPTER XV 


JUST A Y. M. C. A. MAN 

There is one very valuable thing that you might 
do to help in the rescue of your uncle, Billy,’’ 
continued Madame Deschamps. “You might 
secure the interest of the Y. M. C. A. men. Henri 
always gave a great deal of help to the Y. M. C. A., 
as long as he was here in Paris. It was a Y. M. 
C. A. man who brought the last word we have of 
him.” 

Billy found some Y. M. C. A. men who had 
known Major Deschamps and secured their interest. 

“The man you want to look up is Jones,” said 
one of them. “Jones was up in that very district. 
He was one of the men sent to the French Army in 
response to Marshal Foch’s request for some Y. M. 
C. A. men. John Paul Jones is just the man. He 
was wounded himself, and that’s why he is in Paris 
now.” 

“ Is he in this building? ” asked Billy. 

179 


180 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

No, but I can give you his address. He is an 
awfully jolly fellow, and if he can help you about 
your uncle he will do it very gladly. Just now he is 
in the hospital.” 

‘‘ Wounded? ” asked Billy. “ What a lot of you 
Y. M. C. A. men have been wounded lately I ” 

Yes, it's getting to be no distinction whatever. 
But Jones is not badly wounded. He was hit over 
a rib and because it was difficult to bandage, he lost 
a lot of blood. Then he chose a bad place to faint 
away in, because it had been shelled with gas shells 
and some of the gas still lingered. He got enough 
to give him a lot of distress. Besides, he was with- 
out food for five days. But he is doing finely now. 
I saw him yesterday.” 

“ Some of these people who tell about the easy 
time you Y. M. C. A. men have ought to go up and 
see him,” suggested Billy. 

‘‘ He could tell about that easy time, for a fact. 
But we aren't paying any attention to our critics. 
A list of our killed and wounded would answer 
them any time. I myself, have had two turns in the 
hospital.” 

Mr. Jones was at a French hospital in a central 
location of the city, easy to reach. They found him, 
dressed and sitting by his bed, a little, bald, spec- 


Just a Y. M. C. A. Man 


181 


tacled man, who might have come direct from keep- 
ing books in some big New York office. Billy was 
obliged to admit that he did not look very impos- 
ing. 

‘‘ Can I tell you about Major Deschamps? said 
he. “ I can tell you something about him and also 
about two of his men, Paul Desgouttes and Victor 
Renard. I admire Major Deschamps more than 
any soldier of my acquaintance. He is my idea of 
a hero.’’ 

‘‘If you’ll allow me to state a blunt, unpleasant 
truth, Jones, you don’t look very much like a man 
who specializes in heroes,” said the other Y. M. C. 
A. man. 

“No, I suppose not. I look like a man who sells 
jewelry, perhaps, for that’s what I did for twenty 
years. Just the same, when this opportunity came 
to serve my country and France, and the Y. M. C. A. 
all in one, I think one of the big things in my head 
was that it might mix me up with some heroes, 
even if I was nothing but a business man in the 
forties. Mind you, I didn’t ask to be a hero myself ! 
All I wanted was to serve them. And when I had 
a chance to do something for Major Deschamps, 
that was one of those opportunities.” 


182 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘When did you see Major Deschamps? ’’ asked 
Billy. 

“ It must be at least a month ago. You know it 
was on May 27 that the Germans broke through our 
line between Rheims and Soissons in their salient 
advance. Major Deschamps was not with the 
regiment to which I was attached, but both our regi- 
ments suffered terrible losses. Word came to us 
that a little bunch of a dozen French soldiers, all of 
them more or less wounded, were gathered in a 
cave. They had water, but were greatly in need of 
food and surgical attention. You know how it is 
in these military operations a few men in distress 
can’t be considered against the welfare of the mass. 
The success of the army is what matters, not the 
escape of a little handful. 

“ So there was no one except myself to do any- 
thing for this little handful of men in the cave. It 
happened that a shell had made a direct hit on my 
canteen the day before, when I was out taking some 
stuff to the boys who were at work, and the whole 
thing had been blown to atoms, destroying all my 
stock in trade. So I was pretty nearly a useless 
individual. This made me think I might as well 
beg some surgical dressings from our medical sup- 
ply officer and try to reach those men in the cave. 


Just a Y. M. C. A. Man 


183 


You see, one big reason for requesting Y. M. C. A. 
men for the French forces was to maintain their 
morale. And the fellows in our outfit worried so 
much about that little handful of men, it was evi- 
dent that their morale would get quite a boost if 
they knew that some noncombatant like myself had 
started to do something. Anyway, I had no choco- 
late to give out, no baby organ to play, and not a 
phonograph record to put on what was left of the 
talking machine. 

** So I crept through our wire one night just 
about dusk and managed to make pretty good prog- 
ress, being guided by some landmarks that I remem- 
bered and a luminous compass. In the morning I 
was behind the German lines, for they had made 
quite an advance toward Paris by that time — « 
morels the pity. I knew there were plenty of Ger- 
mans left at various posts, however, and although 
the cave was only about three miles away, I stood 
quite a good chance of having some one interfere 
very seriously with my progress. 

I picked my way very cautiously, and by late 
afternoon I figured that I was getting near. I knew 
the cave pretty well, having been there before, 
because when our regiment was holding that 
sector we had used it as a kind of cooling room for 


184 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

our perishable stuff. Our trenches had been only a 
little way ahead. 

“ I got a great scare about that time, for I heard 
a party of men somewhere near me. I supposed 
they were out on the job of cleaning up stragglers. 
I didn’t believe they would find the men in the cave 
unless they had specific directions, because the 
approach was well hidden by heavy brush. But 
what I was afraid of was that they would clean up 
me. 

‘‘ There were shell holes in plenty, but most of 
them only hid you just as long as no one looked 
over the top. Plain, ordinary shell holes are no 
good for playing ‘ hide and seek ’ with Germans. 
But — as luck would have it — the first one that I 
crawled into was of the exceptional kind. A big 
shell had torn into the roots of a tree and not only 
had it made a hole big enough for a subway, but it 
had carried the tree down into it. 

''As the tree lay, there was just barely room for 
me to squeeze beneath it after I had shoved in my 
precious bag of dressings. I tell you I was thank- 
ful then that I was little and skinny and bald ! That 
place was such a tight fit that if I had had a full 
head of hair, some of it would have been left out- 
side. 


Just a Y. M. C. A. Man 


185 


They went away from there after a time, but I 
thought I’d better stay awhile, though I did venture 
to crawl from beneath the trees and stretch my 
muscles. I was just about making up my mind that 
I might safely take the last lap of my journey — 
not more than a hundred yards, I thought — when 
I heard the prowlers coming back again. 

‘‘ Back I dodged beneath my tree. It never would 
do to have those fellows find me and my supplies so 
near to that cave. They would be sure to smell 
something. This time they came right down into 
my shell hole, going very, very carefully, just as if 
there might be a big force of the enemy ready to 
spring on them at any time. ‘ They’re cautious 
bodies, these Germans,’ I thought. 

‘‘And then one of them, quite close to me, said 
something in a low voice. And he spoke in French! 
‘ It must be right about this spot,’ he said. ‘ Pierre 
described the big tree that overhung the cave and 
the underbrush that covered it. This must be the 

spot. I believe this shell hole has’ 

“ ‘ Wait ! ’ I interrupted, realizing that these men 
must be on the same mission. ‘ Don’t be alarmed at 
my voice. I am coming out. I am with the French 
forces and I can tell you what you want to know.’ ” 
“ When I crawled out I recognized my old friend, 


186 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Major Deschamps. With him were the two men of 
whom I told you. They were bringing relief to the 
men in the cave who were not even of their regi- 
ment. 

‘‘ " Pierre Despard came to us with the story/ the 
Major explained. ‘ His brother Jacques is one of 
those in the cave. I could not have left my duties, 
but as it happened I had obtained a short leave of 
absence, and the officer who was to relieve me had 
just arrived. So, of course, I came. Old Despard 
is the concierge of the building in which I live^ and 
I could not have gone back to my home and told 
him that I had left his son Jacques in this cave.’ 

So the Major, with these two volunteers, Paul 
and Victor, had left their safe positions, crawled 
through the wire entanglements, and threaded their 
way to this place by the aid of a rude map drawn 
by Pierre. They have never been stationed here and 
did not know the place as I knew it. So they had 
missed the cave. This is evidence that it was well 
concealed, for they had searched for it carefully. 

I showed them the exact direction, and in a few 
minutes we were with that little group of eight 
wounded and four dead. There had been one other, 
but he had become quite crazed by his wounds and 
had escaped from the cave in the night. 


Just a Y. M. C. A. Man 


187 


“ Taking care of eight wounded men is no great 
job for a military surgeon like Major Deschamps, 
who had often done over a hundred operations in 
a single day, and he soon had them placed in suit- 
able dressings. Meantime I had given the famished 
men some food which heartened them a great deal. 
I think I told you there had been no lack of water, 
as a little stream trickled through the cave. 

“ ‘ We must lose no time,’ said the Major. ‘ Per- 
haps the sensible thing to do would be to yield your- 
selves as German prisoners, but if you had wanted 
to do that you would not have been suffering in this 
cave/ 

“ ‘ Not that,’ declared the men. ‘ Never that ! ’ 

‘ Our food supply won’t hold out very long. 
You have had a little food. Two of you can travel 
this evening, now that you are patched up. Mr. 
Jones will give you a good meal in about two hours. 
Then you will start. Victor and Paul will go with 
you carrying Captain Matin on a stretcher that we 
will make. It is no good for the Captain to wait, 
because a compound fracture of the leg won’t heal 
enough to let him walk on it inside of a month. 
After twenty-four hours of care and feeding, two 
of you others may be able to try the journey. Mr. 
Jones will try to see you through. The rest of you 


188 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

will stay here with me until our comrades have 
pushed the Germans back from the Marne. May it 
be soon ! ’ 

While the gallant Major had turned his speech 
so as to leave a little hope for everyone, I knew 
that he had done no more than outline a series of 
forlorn hazards. I had a shrewd suspicion that the 
best he expected was that by starting these men out 
from the cave they would at least perish in the open 
with a man’s chance for life, rather than lie in the 
cave until too weak to drag their bodies from its 
shelter. Even a German prison camp gave a chance. 
But of these three men who were to stay under the 
Major’s care after that second night — one needed 
to be no doctor to know that they would never walk 
out of that cave. What release was there for the 
Major if our troops did not drive the Germans 
back? 

very good stretcher was made for the Cap- 
tain, and with the two less seriously wounded men 
following them, Paul and Victor took up their bur- 
den and started on their long journey shortly after 
dark. Heroes! Yes, they were heroes. And the 
grandest thing about it all is that they got safely 
through. No one will ever know the terrible trip 
they made, stumbling through the weary miles in 


Just a Y. M. C. A. Man 


189 


the black night with that improvised stretcher, and 
stopping every few yards to give aid to one of the 
two men afoot who had given out. But they made 
it, although they could not cover the whole distance 
that first night. 

“ I was more fortunate with my two men. The 
Major had picked the easy lot for me, I suppose. 
That extra twenty-four hours of rest and feeding 
bucked them up surprisingly. Anyway we got 
safely through. It wasn’t exactly a picnic trip. We 
came awfully close to some German patrols. But 
it’s much easier to get through the lines going out 
than going in. Next morning I heard that Paul and 
Victor, with all three of their party, had come 
safely through an hour or two before we did. 

‘‘And the Major? I can’t tell more about him. 
Before I left the cave we buried one of the three 
whom he had promised to see through. A’ second 
seemed little likely to last out the’ night that I left. 
But the third, although utterly helpless, would live 
as long as the food supply remained. I begged the 
Major to let me stay in his place. I also suggested 
that we might carry this man out on a litter. But 
neither would do. His case demanded daily surgical 
dressing, and a litter was impracticable. 

“ So Major Deschamps stayed there to treat his 


190 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

patient. And if they have found food they may 
both be still alive ; or they may have been discovered 
by the Germans and made prisoners ; or they may be 
even now working their way toward our lines. 
Who knows ? It is a month ago. A wounded man 
may make much progress in a month. 

“ I have reported all this at headquarters, so I 
fear there is nothing new about it to carry to your 
aunt, Billy. Major Deschamps is carried as ‘ miss- 
ing ’ because there is so much uncertainty as to his 
fate. But he has done a man’s work, whatever the 
outcome, and when I think of Major Deschamps, I 
think of a hero.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


CUT OUT FOR A HERO 

Billy Ransom was a very proud boy in those days 
of July and August, 1918, when the American suc- 
cesses became so evident to every one. He mourned 
our losses very deeply, but none the less was he 
proud of the men who had fallen. 

Billy knew all of the Red Cross “ searchers in 
the Paris hospitals, and they knew him and called 
on him to do all manner of service for them. One 
of them he had learned to like particularly because 
she came from Billy’s own town and knew a great 
many of the very same people. 

You remember the Seldem family, Billy? ” said 
this young lady one morning. 

I guess I do,” said Billy. ‘‘ Buddy Seldem 
went to my school.” 

“ Was his name Thorndyke? ” 

‘‘ I think maybe it was. It was some name like 

191 


192 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

that, because everybody called him Buddy so’s not 
to have to use it.” 

‘‘ Well, in the list of inquiries I have to-day there 
is one for Thorndyke W. Seldem, and I noticed the 
same name in the list of ‘ missing ’ in the Herald a 
few days ago.” 

** Come to think of it, so did I,” said Billy. “ I 
remember noticing that he was from our town. But 
I never thought of Buddy Seldem. Buddy was too 
young. He was a grade lower than I in school.” 

‘‘ But he might have been older than you.” 

No, he was just about my age. I remember 
because when I joined the Boy Scouts I tried to get 
Buddy to join, and he was just the right age. So 
you see it couldn’t be Buddy.” 

‘‘ But I think it is, Billy. You know there are a 
good many boys in the army who are two or three 
years younger than the ages they gave at enlistment. 
They were big boys, and wild to enlist, and didn’t 
much care what they said.” 

“ Well, Buddy was a big fellow. The last time 
I saw him he could have passed for eighteen any- 
where, and he wasn’t quite fifteen.” 

‘‘Thorndyke W. Seldem is the same as Buddy 
Seldem, I’m quite sure, Billy. And the reason I’m 
telling you is because one of the boys of his outfit 


Cut Out For a Hero 


193 


is here and tells me that he is quite sure that Bill 
Seldem — it seems he was christened ‘ Bill * when 
he enlisted — is in a small French hospital some- 
where near Vaux. He says that they were both in 
the fighting at Chateau-Thierry, and both were hurt. 
It was pretty hard to get over the roads back to 
Paris just then and they took as many as possible 
to this French hospital, and he is sure that Bill Sel- 
dem was one of them.” 

^‘Want me to send a cable to his folks, Miss 
Bailey ? ” asked Billy. 

‘‘ I don’t like to do that until Fm quite sure,” 
replied Miss Bailey. 

‘‘ Then you would like me to go to the hospital 
and see him ? ” 

That’s it, Billy. But I’ve heard that it isn’t a 
very easy matter to get to that hospital. I made 
inquiry because I thought I’d go myself. They say 
the hospital is quite safe when you get there, but 
there is no train service ; you have to go by motor 
cycle or ambulance or any way you can; and the 
road is exposed to shell fire part of the way. I 
talked to an ambulance driver who makes the trip 
occasionally, and he flatly refused to take me or 
any other woman.” 


194 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“I can get through all right/’ asserted Billy. 
** I’ve been on worse trips than that.” 

‘‘ So you have, Billy ; but I hate to send a mere 
boy where I can’t go myself.” 

‘‘ I guess I’m no more of a boy than Bud Seldem 
is,” insisted Billy. “ Sometimes I wish I had 
enlisted and got to be a hero myself. I could enlist 
right now in the French Army, and no questions 
asked.” 

Why, Billy Ransom ! ” laughed Miss Bailey. 
‘‘To hear you talk like that, when you are one of 
the most useful boys I know.” 

“ Maybe I am useful. Miss Bailey. But I tell you 
that sometimes I get mighty tired of being just a 
messenger boy to fetch and carry for people. I 
always feel like that when I hear of boys like Bud 
Seldem doing things.” 

“Would you have lied about your age, Billy 
Ransom? ” 

Billy’s gaze dropped and he blushed. 

“You know you would not. And your father 
can tell you that these young boys who have stolen 
into the army when under age have generally done 
more harm than good. But that’s no reason why we 
should not do what we can for the Seldem boy.” 


Cut Out For a Hero 195 

‘‘ Leave it to me,” said Billy. “ I don’t know 
how I’ll do it, but I will.” 

Miss Bailey watched him as he hurried away. 
“ I suppose it never occurs to Billy Ransom that he 
really is a hero,” thought she. “ Perhaps people in 
general don’t think so, either, but I do.” 

Billy certainly didn’t think so. The ambulance 
that ran to the hospital near Vaux was a French 
car and had a Frenchman for a driver. He was a 
stranger to Billy but the boy soon struck up an 
acquaintance with him. Anything that the Ameri- 
can Red Cross desired this driver would grant, for 
he himself was a disabled soldier who owed much to 
the Americans. Despard was his name, he told 
Billy. 

‘‘ Not Pierre Despard? ” asked Billy. 

The very same,” the soldier admitted. 

“And you have a brother Jacques? ” 

“ I did have a brother named Jacques. Whether 
I now have, God alone can tell.” 

“ But you knew my uncle, the French surgeon. 
Major Deschamps? ” 

“ Your uncle was one of God’s finest men. May 
you be as great and as brave a man! ” 

“ Yes, my uncle is a great man. I speak of him 
as living for I do not think that he is dead.” 


196 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

We shall see/' Pierre Despard. ‘‘ If he is living 
we shall very soon hear from him and he will tell 
us also about Jacques. Whatever I can do for a 
kinsman of your uncle’s I will do.” 

‘‘ I want to go to the hospital with you this after- 
noon,” said Billy. 

“ It is a dangerous ride. Let me be your mes- 
senger.” 

** No. I must go myself,” Billy asserted. ‘‘And 
I would like to go to-day.” 

“ I am doing you no favor,” said Pierre Despard, 
“ but be ready at one o’clock.” 

The ride to the hospital was uneventful until 
within six miles of their destination. 

“ Now we shall have a bad time of it, perhaps,” 
said the driver. “ It depends on the mood they are 
in. Sometimes they let us go without a shot.” 

“ I’m surprised that they should waste their 
ammunition on a single ambulance,” said Billy. 

“ It is their spite. They wish to show that they 
still command this road. They are not very likely 
to make a hit, but at least they will terrify us. 
They will keep the road from being used.” 

“ Several times I have been on roads that were 
under shell fire, but I don’t seem to get used to it,” 
admitted Billy. 


Cut Out For a Hero 


197 


IVe been under fire for four years and I’m not 
used to it yet,” replied the soldier. “But we have 
our work to do. Why bother ? ” 

“ That’s it,” said Billy, “ we have our work to do. 
It may not be the most important work in the world 
but it’s what we have to do.” 

They drove two miles without seeming to attract 
any attention. 

“ Two or three minutes more and we shall be 
out of range,” said the driver. “ They seem to be 
feeling in a genial mood to-day.” 

He had scarcely finished his remarks before the 
screech of a shell came whistling through the air. 
Billy ducked and cowered. His companion did not 
stir in his seat. 

“ Too high! ” he said contemptuously. “ It will 
pass us. I have learned when to duck in my four 
years. These Boches are not up to the standard. 
And now they are too late, for we shall be out of 
range.” 

“ I’m ashamed,” said Billy. “ I’m not cut out 
for a hero.” 

“ We have a saying in the French Army that a 
hero is a soldier who happens to be noticed at a rash 
moment,” said the driver. 

The rest of the drive was very enjoyable. The 


198 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

hospital was a large, fine chateau that had been con- 
verted to its present use by the charitable enterprise 
of the owner. It was quite safe from shell fire, and 
the Germans were not at that time bombing hos- 
pitals. 

“ We are very glad that you have come,’^ said 
the superintendent when Billy had stated his errand. 

The patient of whom you speak is here. His 
wound is not so very serious, but he is low, very 
low.^’ 

‘‘ You mean that he is in danger? ’’ asked Billy. 

“ We hope not, but possibly. He is also what you 
in America call homesick. He longs and cries for 
his American friends. We would have sent him in 
to an American hospital had the roads been safer, 
for he makes no recovery here. So we are very 
glad for you to come.” 

Fm glad, too,” said Billy. ‘‘And Fd like to see 
him as soon as possible. If he’s the fellow I think 
he is, I ought to be able to cheer him up a little.” 

If Billy had not been prepared in advance he 
would have found it hard to recognize his old school- 
mate, Buddy Seldem, in the long, thin, sallow figure 
that he found in this French hospital. But Bud, 
though totally unprepared for the joyful surprise, 
found no difficulty in recognizing Billy. 


Cut Out For a Hero 


199 


It’s Billy Ransom ! ” he shouted in a thin, high 
voice. ‘‘ You are Billy Ransom, aren’t you? Don’t 
you dare say you are somebody else ! ” 

The look of anxiety that came into the boy’s face 
was quite pathetic. 

“ I’m Billy Ransom, all right,” said Billy. ‘‘And 
you are Buddy Seldem. I’m here to look after 
you.” 

“ Billy, you’ve saved my life. I’ll never be able 
to tell you how glad I am to see you. But you’ve 
saved my life. I’m dying in this hospital. I know 
I am. Don’t go away, Billy. Stay by me as long 
as I need you. Please, Billy ; you must ! ” 

“ Who said anything about going away. Buddy ? 
I’ve only just come.” 

“ Yes, but I want you to stay. You must stay, 
Billy. I can’t bear to have you go. These people 
here are all good, especially one or two of the nurses 
that try to talk English to me, but I’m homesick, 
Billy. I need some one like you, some one that 
isn’t strange, some one that means home.” 

“Don’t be afraid. Buddy; I’ll look after you,” 
Billy assured him. “ You mean a lot to me, too, 
you know, because I’m just as far away from home 
as you are.” 

“ So you are, Billy. It’s different with you, 


200 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

though. You haven’t played the fool like I have.” 

Don’t talk like that, Bud. You’re just excited. 
You’ll feel differently when you are better.” 

“ No, I won’t. And I’m glad to say it. I’m glad 
to get it off my mind. I tell you I was just a fool, 
Billy Ransom. You know how old I am. You 
know that neither father nor mother had any idea 
that I would try to enlist. You know how I ran off 
and passed myself off to the recruiting officer as 
eighteen. I thought I was pretty clever then, but I 
know now that I just played the fool.” 

‘‘ Never mind. Buddy. That’s ancient history 
now, and you’ve been a good soldier.” 

“No, I haven’t been a good soldier. Our army 
officers knew what they were about when they set 
eighteen as the age limit. Boys younger than that 
are not fit for the training. They can’t keep up. 
They get in the way. They are a drag on their com- 
pany. That’s what I’ve been most of the time, Billy, 
a drag on the company.” 

“ Don’t talk about it. Bud. Tell me when you 
heard from home last.” 

“ No. I’ve got to tell you this first, Billy. It’s 
on my mind awfully heavy, and there’s more to it 
than you think. I was a drag. I believe that it 
was because I was dragging behind that I and 


Cut Out For a Hero 


201 


another fellow got wounded. And there’s more to 
it than that, Billy. Bend down so I can talk to you 
in a whisper. Some of these fellows understand a 
little English and you never can tell. Now, listen! ” 

He whispered something in Billy’s ear that made 
the young scout very serious indeed. 

“ No, you wouldn’t do that. It would be the 
worst thing you could do. Your people might never 
know, but that would not change the fact. You 
just couldn’t do that. Bud. It would be cowardly.” 

“ But I could, Billy. I just tell you life isn’t 
worth living to me if I’ve got to go up on the front 
line again. I don’t worry about my wound being 
bad ; I worry about the likelihood of its getting well. 
I’ll just slip my bandages some night and ” 

‘‘Now you stop right there. Bud! Your mind 
isn’t working right. You know I always played 
fair, don’t you? ” 

“ Yes, Billy, you always were on the level.” 

“ Very well. On my honor as a scout I promise 
to look after you, and I know that I can promise 
that you won’t have to go up front again. You see 
I know some people who have influence, and I know 
just how old you really are, and — well, I can fix it. 
I’m sure I can.” 

“ Billy, that gives me the first happiness I’ve had 


202 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

for a month. I’ll be awfully glad to see my mother 
and father again.” 

‘‘ You will before long, Bud. The War is going 
to be over soon. Every one can see it, now. We 
are winning. Bud. You just sit tight and hold on 
to yourself.” 

Billy sent a message to Miss Bailey that night — 
a long letter. But he himself stayed at the hospital. 
He was still there three days later when Pierre Des- 
pard brought the good news that the Germans had 
again been driven back and that the road to Paris 
was now quite safe. 

A few days later a special board of examiners 
made its report on the case of Thorndyke W. Sel- 
dem and recommended that he be returned to the 
United States, S. C. D., which means “ Surgeon’s 
Certificate of Disability.” 

It’s a little different from going home with a 
D. S. C.,” Buddy said to Billy, at the station. ‘‘ But 
the transposition of the letters doesn’t disappoint 
me. I wasn’t cut out for a hero, Billy. The big 
thing for me is that I’m going home.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


NO TRADE WITH THE ENEMY 

Billy Ransom was still in Paris in August, 1918. 
There was plenty of work and plenty of excitement. 
After the splendid movement against the German 
flank begun by Marshal Foch on July 18, it seemed 
as if the tide of victory had become decisive for the 
allied forces. But the war had lasted a long time. 
The people of Paris had seen many starts toward 
victory, and as many reverses. Such things might 
occur again. But there was one element that had 
never before entered the fight as a definite factor 
that now was a dominant feature, the American 
Expeditionary Force. 

Headquarters of various staffs of the A. E. F. 
sprang up everywhere in Paris. The need for intel- 
ligent interpreters was never fully supplied, and as 
Billy became more widely known his services were 
constantly in demand. He was very busy as well as 
a very happy Boy Scout. 

203 


204 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

The greatest cloud upon his happiness was the 
loss of his uncle, Major Deschamps. Madame Des- 
champs had now returned to Paris, feeling that the 
Major was either dead or in a German prison. 

One day in August Despard came to see Billy. 

I come for news of your esteemed uncle, Major 
Deschamps,’’ said Pierre. 

** We have no news. And I suppose you have 
none of your brother Jacques.” 

None whatever. Either he is dead, or worse 
than dead — captured.” 

‘‘ I don’t think that is worse than being dead. I 
hear that the Germans are now treating their pris- 
oners better.” 

‘‘And of whom do you hear such news? One 
prisoner escaped and reached us, it is a week since. 
There was a fire. The guards were busy saving 
themselves. But he alone of a large camp of pris- 
oners had enough strength to travel. He says noth- 
ing of improved conditions.” 

“It is a shame,” agreed Billy. “It is another 
dark blot that will stain the German name for long 
years to come. We treat the Germans well when 
we hold them as prisoners. So do the French, don’t 
they?” 

“ We do not pet them,” said the Frenchman, with 


No Trade With The Enemy 205 

a grin and a shrug, “ but at least we give them as 
good fare as goes to our own soldiers.” 

‘‘ Now that the Germans are driven back, Pierre, 
and the territory of the cave is again in our posses- 
sion, I wish that you would guide me there. 1 
would like to see the place.” 

“ Why should you wish it ? Know you not that 
a party of our men examined the cave the very day 
that the Boches were driven back ? There had been 
no one there for days. Spider webs were grown 
across its mouth. Know you not that when the men 
who could walk left that cave with my so sorely 
wounded brother in the charge of your splendid 
uncle, there was food only for a few days? ” 

‘‘ But I want to see it anyway,” persisted Billy. 
‘‘ I want to see it just because my uncle was there, 
if for no other reason.” 

*'Ah, it is for the sentiment ! I ask you will par- 
don me. For me the place has no sentiment but that 
of hatred, for I spent there three days and nights 
of misery. But for you it is different. To-morrow 
we will go.” 

It was not much of a journey now that this 
region was no longer fighting ground and could be 
traveled without the dread that every tree concealed 
an ambush. They traveled by motor cycle as far as 


206 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the road would carry them, and then went the 
remaining six miles that had taken the relief party 
two nights to cover in little more than two hours. 

“ Here it is,” said Pierre at last. Here is the 
big tree and below it the heavy brush that concealed 
the mouth of the cave. It is still well hidden, is it 
not? ” 

“ Well, I think I could find it without very much 
trouble,” replied Billy. ‘‘ See, the brush is trampled 
down in this direction, and it seems to lead straight 
to an opening.” 

‘‘Ah, it was nothing like this of old!” protested 
Pierre. “ Our men who searched the cave no doubt 
were careless, for they considered that now the 
Boche is driven back we shall need caves no more.” 

Billy had a pocket flash, but Pierre carried an 
armful of dry wood into the cave for lighting pur- 
poses. 

“ We can make a blaze, for there is good ventila- 
tion,” said he. “ The only reason we could have no 
fire while shut up here was because we dared not let 
smoke be seen or smelled.” 

By the light of the fire Billy saw a room about 
twelve feet high, twelve feet wide, and running so 
far back that he could not see its depth. 

“A good many men could stay in here,” he said. 


No Trade With The Enemy 207 

** There were fourteen of us when I was here/' 
said Pierre. “ One man was insane, four were 
dying, and the other eight were all wounded worse 
than I. The cave seemed like a vast place in the 
rear, so we all huddled up close to the mouth, and 
up there we seemed crowded. The insane man was 
pretty bad at times, but the night after I left to get 
help he broke away." 

“ But that was before my uncle. Major Des- 
champs, arrived, wasn’t it ? " 

‘‘ He did not come until after I had carried my 
message for help. No doubt he organized the 
arrangements of the cave much better." 

“ I think that was where he slept," said Billy, 
pointing with his torch to a pile of sand that had 
been gathered into the semblance of a bed, upon a 
projecting ledge. 

‘‘ No," said Pierre, ‘‘ that would be his table 
where the patients were placed, perhaps. The 
Major would care little about a bed of sand. He 
has been too long in the field." 

“ Here is a shelf ! " cried Billy, feeling around 
over the supposed table. 

He turned the flash light upon it and was 
rewarded by finding several small articles that had 
undoubtedly belonged to the Major. Under such 


208 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

circumstances articles of this nature assume a very 
precious value, but the thing that stirred Billy most 
was a little book in which the Major had made 
numerous notes. 

Billy read these precious notes eagerly : 

‘'June 26. Vann died to-day. Jones has just 
left with the two men, Jean Sutier and Jules Levy. 
They are physically able to get through unless Sutier 
starts a serious hemorrhage. I have food enough to 
last two men for six days by careful rationing. I 
need count only myself and Jacques Despard, for 
Lemartre is eating nothing and can live only a day 
or two. If the miraculous happens and our forces 
retake this ground in a week, w^e are safe. Despard 
will get well but cannot be moved for three or four 
weeks. 

“June 27. Lemartre still lives but is very feeble. 
Thank God the water is plentiful, for he constantly 
calls for it. 

“June 28. Lemartre died this morning and I 
buried him with the others at the rear of the cave. 
Despard is easier now that he is no longer disturbed 
by Lemartre^s cries. 

“June 29. A German patrol searched around 
here this morning. I could see and hear enough to 
know that they were of the 201st Division, 402nd 


No Trade With The Enemy 209 

Regiment. Our food is holding out better than I 
anticipated, but Despard is now able to eat more. 

‘7une 30. All quiet to-day. I managed to snare 
two small birds in the brush at the entrance. 
Everything helps. 

‘‘July 1. Despard improves every day. He may 
be able to travel in two weeks. But he must have 
more to eat. 

“July 2. Snared a rabbit to-day. They are 
numerous now that this part of the wood is quiet. 
But they are hard to catch. 

“July 3. Germans in here again. It seems that 
they have been driven back. These men are of the 
Signal Corps and are establishing communication. 

“July 4. A good day. I would like to be in 
Paris to help Billy celebrate. Everything quiet 
here.’’ 

“July 5. No more men have appeared but there 
is much noise of artillery. Despard still improves. 
So does his appetite. I must get food to-day. 

“July 6. Snared a rabbit again but I fear at 
great expense. I was seen by some Germans of the 
same 402nd Regiment, which is apparently 
encamped near here, having been beaten back. It is 
worth the risk to see Despard eat. 

“July 7. The 402nd have a company kitchen not 


210 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

a hundred yards away. To-morrow I will see how 
well it is kept. 

‘‘July 8. Raided the kitchen. Enough food for 
a week. But they will be furious, for they feel 
keenly a blow at the stomach. They will search 
everywhere. Despard is walking to-day. He is a 
surprise to me, that man. 

“July 9. They will find us soon, for they have 
brought dogs to nose out the trail. Despard says he 
will die before he will surrender. But that is fool- 
ish with so many against us. He certainly would 
have died had he been found two weeks ago, for a 
move would have been fatal, but now he may live. 
He gains in strength every day.” 

That was the last entry in the notebook. Billy 
searched everywhere through the cave for some- 
thing that might give later information. But aside 
from the few articles oii the dark shelf, everything 
had been carried away. 

“ You may well be glad that we came, Despard,” 
said Billy. “ Here is good news for both of us. 
Your brother had reached the place where he might 
live. It is better to be a German prisoner than to 
die of wounds or be starved to death.” 

“ Not better,” objected Pierre. “ It’s about the 
same thing.” 


No Trade With The Enemy 21 1 

“ I don’t agree with you,” said Billy. ‘‘ I think 
the men are prisoners and I expect to see my uncle 
again. The fighting will soon be over now.” 

“ Every year since 1914 we have thought that.” 
said Pierre gloomily. 

But it is sure now,” said Billy. “ The German 
retreat is steady. We will keep them on the go. By 
the spring of 1919, not later, we will make our final 
victorious drive.” 

“ Will your uncle or my brother be living then? ” 
asked Pierre. 

‘^Why not? We will find where they are 
and send things to them. If the Germans of the 
201st Division captured them we can find out soon, 
perhaps, because many of the soldiers of that divi- 
sion are our prisoners in Paris.” 

It is true,” admitted Pierre. a prison camp 
nera Versailles I know that there are Germans from 
this very regiment.” 

Let us hurry back and see them,” said Billy. “ I 
can hardly wait to hear what they have to say.” 

Whatever may be said of German soldiers as 
soldiers, both French and Americans agree that they 
make excellent prisoners. At this time there were 
Germans all over France doing valuable service. 
Usually they were very docile. Most of them were 


212 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

SO happy to be safely out of the fighting that they 
made no attempt to escape. Not only were they 
used in great numbers to do the labor of the army 
camps and to work on public roads and buildings, 
but they were even sent out singly or in small 
groups to do work on the farms of the country. 

They were a common sight to Billy. Usually 
they wore old uniforms that had been dyed green 
and might have been used by any army; but the 
German cap was retained. They could be distin- 
guished at a great distance by the large white letters 
that were placed on their outer garments. These 
letters were either P. G. or P. W. If it was P. G. 
you knew that they were prisoners of the French, 
for the initials meant ‘‘ Prisonnier de Guerre ” ; 
P. W., Prisoner of War and indicated that the 
men were prisoners of British or American forces. 

When Billy went to the prison camp near Ver- 
sailles he learned that the men of the 402nd Regi- 
ment were among a company that had been detailed 
to do janitor work at a large public building occu- 
pied by no less a personage than the minister of 
war. 

Billy gained admission to the building without 
trouble. The prisoners were white-washing a large 


No Trade With The Enemy 213 

hall. The only one not at work was a sergeant who 
had charge of them under a French sergeant. 

“Will you interpret for me?’’ Billy asked the 
French sergeant. “ I don’t know much German.” 

“ You won’t need it,” said the sergeant. “ Their 
sergeant speaks French and English as well as you 
do.” 

Billy turned to look at the man pointed out, and 
a thrill swept through him as he recognized the man 
Marson, who had formerly pretended to act as inter- 
preter for the 199th while really a German spy. 

“ I know that man,” he said. “ He ought to have 
a good deal to say to me.” 

As soon as Billy faced Marson he felt that the 
man recognized him, in his Scout uniform, so he 
made no effort to conceal his identity. 

“ What do you want of me now ? ” growled Mar- 
son. “ Haven’t you done enough? ” 

“ I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to you but 
break up your spying on American troops,” replied 
Billy. “ This time I want a service of you. I want 
you to tell me about my uncle. Major Deschamps, 
who was captured by your regiment in a cave some- 
where about July 9. Do you know about it? ” 

The man’s eyes flashed with cunning. “ Suppos- 
ing that I do have information about your uncle, 


214 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the Major, my scout; do you think it is to give 
away? Not so. But it is for exchange.’^ 

‘‘ What do you mean by exchange ? ” 

‘‘ I mean that I favor you by telling truly all that 
I know of the Major, his state of health, where he 
has been sent, how to reach him by mail. You, in 
turn, favor me by forgetting that you ever saw me 
before. Simple, is it not? ’’ 

“ Perhaps it is,” said Billy, ‘‘ but I’m making no 
rash promises. It can’t hurt you if I get the advice 
of some older person than myself about this.” 

Yes it can. That older person might tell. It can 
make no difference to you how I’m classified so long 
as I am a prisoner. But it makes a lot of difference 
to me. Now I am a captured soldier, allowed a 
great deal of liberty and treated well. If they 
should listen to your story and classify me as a spy 
— well you know how spies are treated.” 

‘‘All very well,” replied Billy, “ but I must be 
fair to France.” 

“ You forget, boy; the war Is about over. And if 
you keep quiet I have information of value for you. 
Why not be reasonable?” 

“ It does sound reasonable,” Billy admitted. 
“ I’m sure of just one thing, though — there can’t 
be any trading between me and the enemy.” 


No Trade With The Enemy 21 S 

In a short time he was back at the prison camp 
telling the commandant about Marson. 

‘‘ If s just as well you didn’t listen to him,” said 
the officer, if for no other reason than that he has 
been our prisoner since the sixth of June and could 
have told you nothing. It is never safe to rely 
greatly upon information obtained from such men. 
We want that man and I’ll see that he is taken care 
of. We have a number of prisoners of the 402nd 
Regiment of more recent capture who are men of 
good character. I will question them.” 

Billy never did learn in what manner the com- 
mandant secured his information, but that evening 
he was overjoyed to be able to carry to his aunt and 
to Pierre Despard these addresses. 

‘‘ Communications and packages for Major Des- 
champs should be sent to Prison Camp for French 
officers, Metz; for Jacques Despard, Block 2, Dul- 
men Prison Camp.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


BIRTHDAY GIFTS 

September 12 was Billy Ransom’s birthday. But 
even to Billy the importance of this event was over- 
shadowed by the fact that the American troops were 
beginning their attack on St. Mihiel salient. 

The excitement all over France was intense. 
Rumors of all kinds were in circulation. At one 
hour one heard that the American forces were being 
repulsed with great losses. At another they had 
taken sixty thousand prisoners. Then came the wild 
rumor that the Germans had evacuated Metz and 
the war was practically over. And thus the excite- 
ment was kept at fever pitch. 

There were no dull days in Paris at that time. 
The war was within sixty days of its end, but no 
one in Paris, either French or .^erican, realized 
that such could be the case. They had become habit- 
uated to war. They had seen many fluctuations. It 
did not seem possible that it could end so very soon. 

216 


Birthday Gifts 217 

But next year, the great spring drive of 1919, surely 
would be the end. 

Meantime a!!l war preparations were maintained 
at high presj 'ire. There was no let up in vigilance 
in any direction. The training of the soldiers was 
continued steadily. The food regulations were 
maintained. The rules against the display of lights 
at night remained. Vigilance against spies was 
very strict. 

In a morning paper Billy read a warning to the 
people to be on their guard against all strange uni- 
forms. Spies had lately been discovered under 
many new disguises. They were masquerading as 
officers and soldiers of the allied armies, even the 
American, and in some cases they had been discov- 
ered wearing obscure uniforms such as had belonged 
to petty monarchies long extinct. It was supposed 
that the spies favored the uniforms of army officers 
because they were a passport to many public build- 
ings. To recognize every one of the great diversity 
of uniforms worn by those who filled the streets of 
Paris at this time a person must indeed have been 
well informed. 

Birthday presents had scarcely been in Billy’s 
calculations for this birthday, so far away from 
home. Nevertheless, he was not forgotten. His 


218 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

aunt, Madame Deschamps, had arranged a little 
morning party for him. She had been compelled to 
make it a picnic breakfast because she was on duty 
in the afternoon. Two or three French Boy Scouts 
whom Billy liked very well, and Sergeant Rooney 
were the guests. 

‘‘ Fm sure sorry that I didn^t know this was a 
birthday, Billy,’" said Rooney. “ I couldn’t have 
bought you a present, for we haven’t seen a pay day 
for four months, but I want to give you a little gift 
that I picked up at the front. Some German officer 
dropped it in his hasty flight, I reckon. Or maybe he 
threw it away so he wouldn’t be identified. It’s a 
German officer’s identification book with photo- 
graph. Nice souvenir, eh? Just a youngster of 
about your age, but he doesn’t look like you.” 

'' What age have you, Billee,” asked one of the 
French scouts. 

Sixteen,” replied Billy. ‘‘ This fellow looks 
nearer twenty. Thank you for the souvenir, Sarge. 
I haven’t a thing like it. I didn’t look for any birth- 
day presents this far away from home. But what 
do you think my mother sent me ? My aunt kept it 
hidden until to-day.” 

‘‘ Gold watch,” guessed Rooney. 

“ Nothing like that. Anyway, I have a good 


Birthday Gifts 219 

watch. She sent me this new Scout suit I’m wear- 
ing. I told her how my old suit had worn out, and 
how, much as I honored the French Scouts, it was 
hardly the thing for me to be wearing their uni- 
form, so she sent me a new outfit.” 

‘‘ What^s the difference, Billy ? I thought all the 
scouts everywhere wore the same uniform.” 

‘‘ There is very little difference, but just enough 
so you can notice. The most difference is in the 
breeches. Here the scouts all wear ' shorts And 
so they do in England and in some parts of Amer- 
ica. But around my home, the scouts all wear long 
breeches and generally leggings or wrap puttees. I 
like it because it makes us look more like our 
soldiers, and Fm American enough to want every 
one to know it.” 

Thought you spent most of your time trying to 
talk like a Frenchman,” said Rooney. 

Well, I am proud of my French. And I do talk 
your language pretty well, don’t I, fellows ? ” 

You talk very French, Billee. You speak very 
perfectly,” he was assured. 

‘‘ But my best birthday gift is coming this even- 
ing. My father is to be here at six o’clock. I am 
to meet him at the Gare du Nord.” 

'' That’s fine, Billy. Fd like to see your father. I 


220 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

never have seen him because, you remember, I 
didn’t cross in the same boat with you, and he has 
never been in Paris while I’ve been here.” 

“ I would like all of you to meet my father,’’ said 
Billy. ‘‘ Come back at eight o’clock to-night and 
you shall see him.” 

No one was content to stay very long away from 
the bulletin boards on that twelfth day of Septem- 
ber, once the news of the advance had begun to 
come through to the Paris press, so the party was 
not prolonged. 

Billy and Sergeant Rooney went together to the 
Herald office. The French boys were going to the 
office of Matin, 

There is an old saying that boys will be boys, and 
I suppose it is as true of French boys as of the 
boys of America. 

These French boys were very good boys. They 
loved their country and they worked for her. They 
loved fun and they allowed no opportunities to be 
lost. 

‘‘ What think you of Billee in his new American 
Boy Scout clothes ? ” asked one. 

I like them not,” was the reply. ‘‘A scout is 
better as we are.” 

“ They look foreign,” said another. ‘‘ See, here 


221 


Birthday Gifts 

is Oscar Depere of the Secret Service. I will tell 
him that Billee is one of those wearers of strange 
uniforms and is to be kept under observation.” 

Depere was a solemn, elderly man who had been 
given a minor post in the secret service because he 
was too old for army service. 

He will not escape me,” he said, after the boys 
had pointed Billy out in the throng around the 
Herald office. 

The old man was not lacking in perseverance and 
a certain degree of ingenuity. He kept Billy under 
his eye through a rather busy day. It was not until 
our scout had returned from a message delivered to 
a chemist at one of the laboratories of the Sorbonne 
that he decided to arrest him. This chemist was 
under suspicion. Therefore the visit of Billy to the 
laboratory was suspicious. Later in the afternoon, 
when he had taken plenty of time to think it over, 
he made his decision. 

‘‘ Come with me,” he said to Billy. I am of the 
secret service.” 

Billy was not backward about going, for though 
he had few dealings with the French Secret Ser- 
vice, he was quite willing to give help. 

‘‘ What can I do for you? ” he asked. 


222 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ Come along. That is all. I am taking you to 
the Bureau.’’ 

‘‘ But why ? ” asked Billy. “ What do they want 
with me ? ” 

“ That you will discover later,” said Depere. 

‘‘ This is very funny,” said Billy. ‘‘ I am a Boy 
Scout on duty at Red Cross Headquarters.” 

‘‘ I have information to the contrary,” said 
Depere. 

That is not a Boy Scout uniform. March 
along ! ” 

At the Bureau it happened to be a relief period 
during which the officer in charge was a man some- 
what of the caliber of Depere. 

It is one of those strange uniforms of which we 
are warned, without doubt,” he agreed. “ He must 
be held and searched.” 

It is a Boy Scout uniform,” cried Billy. 

“ I have seen Boy Scout uniforms many times. I 
cannot be deceived.” 

“ But this is the uniform of an American Scout.” 

‘‘We are especially warned against spies who are 
impersonating Americans.” 

“ I’m not a spy,” insisted Billy. 

“ Perhaps not, but you have a strange accent for 
a Frenchman.” 


Birthday Gifts 223 

This was quite a blow to Billy, who had supposed 
his French to be beyond criticism. 

“ I have as good an accent as you,^^ he retorted. 

This happened to be correct, for the officer was 
an Alsatian. But it was a rash thing to say, and 
one that did not react in Billy’s favor, since the old 
gentleman also prided himself on a perfect accent. 

‘‘We shall see if you have as good credentials,” 
said the officer. “ Search him, Depere.” 

Billy indignantly began to turn out the contents 
of his pockets upon a table. There was not the 
usual assortment of articles since he had just put 
on the new suit and had transferred only the essen- 
tials. But- there was one thing that he overlooked. 
The new blouse had an inside pocket and in that 
he had bestowed for safer keeping the souvenir of 
the German officer’s identification book presented by 
Sergeant Rooney. It was the first thing found by 
Depere when he began his examination. He held 
it forth with a dramatic air. 

“ Here is the key to the mystery,” he exclaimed. 
“ Did you think Oscar Depere would overlook such 
evidence? ” 

“ No. I forgot it was there. It was just given 
to me this morning. You can see that it is not my 
picture. It doesn’t look like me in the least.” 


224 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ That is the art of it! ” exclaimed Depere. You 
can’t fool old hands with this kind of stuff. Had 
you looked like the picture I might have doubted, 
but you are so different that it is very evident that 
you are disguised. We shall see.” 

We shall see,” repeated the desk officer. “ You 
will go with the rest of them. The prefect himself 
will examine you to-morrow.” 

But I cannot wait until to-morrow ; I have 
important things to do to-night.” 

The officers only smiled. 

‘‘At least you will send a note for me by a mes- 
senger. I have money. I will pay.” 

This much it seemed might be granted, but the 
note must be written in French. Billy did not wish 
to alarm his aunt, nor was he sure that he could 
reach her. He was more anxious to reach his father 
than anything else, so decided to write his note to 
Sergeant Rooney at his hospital, asking him to meet 
his father at six o’clock and bring him to the station. 
Fortunately Rooney could read French. 

This done, Billy was passed through a barred 
door into another compartment of the same room, 
where were collected behind a grating some dozen 
suspects whom officer Depere and his coworkers 
had managed to bag that day. 


225 


Birthday Gifts 

Billy looked around on the group with some 
apprehension. He was not used to close connection 
with spies and other criminals. He was keeping a 
brave front but not without a great deal of effort, 
for he had heard much of the power of the French 
secret service and knew it to be quite possible that 
a person should be lost forever to the world after 
having once come into their hands. 

The little compartment was rather crowded and 
he was obliged to sit on one end of a seat already 
occupied by two men. 

He dozed after awhile, but he was not so much 
asleep that he could not hear the men whispering. 
They were using English because there seemed to be 
no one of that nationality in the room. 

‘‘ One o’ these cheap Germans,” he heard. 
“ Young under-lieutenant of some kind, judging 
from the identification book they found on him. We 
couldn’t use him for anything. It’s the people 
higher up that we’re after.” • 

“ But he might tell us whom to deal with.” 

Wouldn’t try it. Wouldn’t trust him. They’ve 
got nothing on us. We’ll be let loose to-morrow. 
Then we can go to the real people here in Paris and 
make our own terms. No good dealing with any 
small fry this boy might send us to. 


226 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

‘‘ I’d like to try, though. I venture to say he 
could tell us how to reach the high-up ones here. 
You don’t understand the perfection of this German 
system.” 

“ Maybe not. But I understand what we have to 
dispose of and I don’t intend to trust any boy like 
that. Wait until to-morrow. Magnuson will 
know.” 

The name Magnuson gave Billy the clue that he 
had been seeking. It was not an everyday name, 
nor one to be forgotten in a few hours. Magnuson 
was the name of the chemist to whom he had car- 
ried a message that day, the man who was experi- 
menting with lethal gas at the Sorbonne. And this 
man who had something that he was willing to sell 
to the Germans had been in conversation with Mag- 
nuson. He must have been arrested shortly there- 
after. 

It had grown dusk in the little cell, and Billy was 
relieved to have the gas lighted. He took a good 
look at the man whose voice he had recognized. 
Then he was quite sure of him. It was now more 
important than ever that he should obtaip his liberty 
so that he might use the information he had gained. 
He looked at the clock. It was of the kind that 


Birthday Gifts 227 

showed the time to be twenty minutes past eighteen 
o^clock. 

Just then a taxicab pulled up at the door and to 
Billy’s great relief he heard the voice of his father, 
Dr. Ransom. A few words of explanation, and 
Billy was again allowed to pass through the door 
in the grating. 

Your present got me into trouble, Sarge,” he 
said to Rooney. “ So it’s only fair that you should 
get me out. I certainly can’t thank you enough. I 
was afraid I was in for life.” 

As soon as they were well outside Billy told his 
father of the men who had something to sell to the 
Germans. Dr. Ransom had rather close acquain- 
tance with those high in the French Secret Service. 
Experienced officers were soon detailed to give the 
case proper attention. 

It was long after eight o’clock when Billy with 
his father and Sergeant Rooney reached the home 
where the morning picnic had been held. Billy was 
surprised to find his scout friends waiting to meet 
his father. 

I beg your pardon a thousand times, fellows,” 
he said ‘‘ I’ve had such exciting experiences to-day 
that I’m ashamed to say I forgot you. I’ve been 
arrested, but it has helped me to detect a couple of 


228 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

men who were going to sell important secrets. 
Worse still, these men were British subjects and 
they were turned over to British officers. In just a 
little while I’m to go all the way to England to give 
evidence — just the very place I’ve been wanting to 
go. I’m so excited I almost forgot to ask the last 
news from St. Mihiel.” 

“ The last news from St. Mihiel is still very good, 
Billee. There is no doubt that many prisoners have 
been taken and everything is a grand success. 
Bonne chance for you Americans! You are always 
what you call ‘ lucky.* *’ 


CHAPTER XIX 


A FELLOW NAMED SWARTZ 

It was in October, 1918, that Billy Ransom went 
to London. He had a wonderful visit, but he was 
glad to get back to France, where so much was 
going on at that time. The Argonne offensive was 
well under way. Our men were gaining every day, 
and paying dearly for their gains. If the fighting 
was to go on in this way, a foot at a time, the war 
certainly wouldn^t be over soon. But Austria was 
asking for a separate armistice, and Germany was 
making all sorts of proposals of her own, so perhaps 
peace was not such a forlorn hope, after all. 

A very important personal matter to Billy was 
the fact that his father. Dr. Ransom, after months 
of work in other countries, had now been definitely 
assigned to Red Cross work in France. He was 
to be stationed as the representative of the Ameri- 
can Red Cross at a large hospital center not very 
far from the important city of Nantes. So Billy 

229 


230 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

would have the opportunity to be with his father for 
almost the first time since he had been in France. 

Billy got back to Paris from England just in time 
to start with his father to the new post. Their train 
arrived at Nantes at about six o’clock in the morn- 
ing and made only a short stop at that city. Dr. 
Ransom had a little business in Nantes that kept 
him for almost an hour. Then it was discovered 
that the next train which would carry them to their 
destination did not leave until late in the afternoon. 

“ We’ll have to go by automobile, then,” said 
Dr. Ransom. It is less than twenty-five miles, and 
I can’t afford to waste a whole day.” 

“ There’s a troop train that will start in about 
half an hour,” said the R. T. O. ‘‘ It has only about 
two hundred men, but we’re going to run it special 
to the hospital center so that the men won’t be get- 
ting in there at night.” 

‘‘Are they wounded men ? ” asked Billy. 

“ No, they are men of the medical corps, just 
over. There was a big trainload of them came up 
from Bordeaux. Most of them stay at Nantes, but 
this bunch, one field-hospital crowd and one ambu- 
lance company, go on to the place you’re going.” 

“ Wonder if there are any fellows that I know 


A Fellow Named Swartz 231 


among them/’ said Billy. I used to know a lot of 
men in the medical corps.” 

I’d say it isn’t very likely you know any of 
these,” replied the R. T. O. They aren’t your 
kind. They are the dregs of the draft. Any men 
that were no good for anything else seem to have 
been shoved into the medical corps and sent over 
with this special lot. ‘ Wops ’, draft evaders, con- 
scientious objectors — all kinds. We are mighty 
glad to ship them along.” 

You can’t tell much from just looking at a 
bunch of men traveling in French pony pullmans,” 
said Billy. “If they’ve traveled up from Bordeaux 
in them, it’s a wonder they look like soldiers at all. 
Let me go see them, father. Maybe they’ll let me 
ride with them.” 

“All right, Billy. I’m pretty sure you’ll get your 
passage. I’ll see the commanding officer.” 

“ There are four second-class coaches for the offi- 
cers,” said the R. T. O. “ They have only twelve 
officers, so they can give seats to both of you, if you 
wish.” 

“ I suspect that Billy prefers to get acquainted 
with the men,” said Dr. Ransom, “but I’ll go see 
what the second-class coaches look like.” 


232 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Billy found the men strung along the track near 
the box cars in which they had been traveling. 

Wouldn’t your men like a wash, Sergeant?” 
he asked of the top sergeant. 

They sure would,” was the reply. “ Where’s 
your bathroom ? ” 

“Just around the corner is a faucet with a good 
hose. Send your men along in single file and I’ll 
wash their hands and faces for them.” 

It was a very satisfactory job, though done with- 
out either soap or towels. Billy had them all done 
in twenty minutes, at the end of which time he him- 
self was pretty well splashed and soaked, for the 
men had not been particular how they spattered the 
water around. 

“ You’re a good scout, son,” said the top ser- 
geant. “ What can I do for you ? ” 

“ You might let me ride with you the rest of your 
trip. I want to go to the hospital center.” 

“ Well, I’m sure glad to find somebody as wants 
to go there. Most of us are spending our time 
choosing language strong enough to tell how much 
we don’t want to go.” 

“ Where do you want to go ? ” 

“ We want to go to the front. We’re afraid this 
war’ll be over before we get into it.” 


A Fellow Named Swartz 233 


“ Do you all feel that way ? ” 

All that I know anything about. That’s what 
we came over for, isn’t it?” 

“ I heard you had a lot of foreigners.” 

** Foreigners? We’ve got everything. Wops and 
Dagoes, even one born in Germany. But a fellow 
can’t help the place he was born. I was born in 
County Donegal, Ireland, but I’m a naturalized cit- 
izen of the United States, and nobody can tell I was 
born outside of it, if me name is Murphy.” 

At that moment an officer came down and ordered 
the men to entrain. 

** Get aboard,” said Murphy. This car is my 
own private conveyance, so perhaps you’d better 
hop right into this one. Don’t tip the porter.” 

Billy soon made the acquaintance of the group 
of men who were riding in Murphy’s special. 
Among them he found the man of German birth, 
Emil Swartz. He paid particular attention to this 
man. 

“ What can you tell us about this hospital center 
we are going to ? ” asked Swartz. 

“ I’ve never been there,” said Billy, “ so I can’t 
tell you very much. I’ve seen some other hospital 
centers, though. You see, it was found better in a 
good many ways to group the base hospitals 


234 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

together. So they make a number of them into one 
hospital center. Then they put all the seriously 
wounded men in one hospital, the walking cases in 
another, the medical cases in a third, then the gassed 
cases, perhaps, and possibly the mentals. They can 
take care of more men with less equipment in that 
way. I think there are eight hospitals in the center 
to which we are going. Of course they don’t have 
any base hospitals right up at the front — just field 
hospitals.” 

But ours is a field hospital,” objected Swartz. 

Even field hospital men aren’t sent right to the 
front without training,” explained Billy. “ You will 
stay at this hospital center about six weeks for 
training and then you will go to the front.” 

‘‘ I’m feared this war’s going to end before then,” 
complained Swartz. I’m trained already. I’ve 
been in the army medical corps over a year. I’ve 
only just got to France, but it’s through no fault of 
mine.” 

“ There are a lot of men at the front who would 
like to come back,” ventured Billy. 

‘‘ Yes, but they’ve been there. Maybe I’ll be will- 
ing to come back after I’ve had a chance to show 
what I can do. Look here, kid, I was born in Ger- 
many. Why didn’t my father stay there? It was 


A Fellow Named Swartz 235 


because he was a man who loved freedom and hated 
tyranny. So he emigrated to America. He brought 
me up with his feelings. But because I was born in 
Germany everybody thinks I’m a traitor. Every 
time the outfit I was in got ready to go across, 
they’d weed me out. Finally they got tired and let 
me through. But that ain’t enough. I want to be 
right up at the front working under fire. I’ll show 
’em what kind of stuff Emil Swartz is made of ! ” 

I believe you will,” said Billy. I know a 
major who was born in Germany who has been in 
the hospital twice with severe wounds contracted in 
our service.” 

There are plenty of us ready to be wounded for 
the Flag,” continued Swartz. But people don’t 
do a thing but suspect us, just the same. Do you 
know that probably one fourth of the men in our 
army have names that are German? I’ve heard that 
there is one American division — one of our best — 
in which forty-one per cent, of the men are Ameri- 
cans either born in Germany or of direct German 
descent. Look at the names just recommended for 
the D. S. C. Where do they get Blohm, Schwab, 
Kuehlman, Baer, Scholtheis, and Werner?” 

You put up a good story,” said Billy. It isn’t 
necessary to convince me, for my father has taught 


236 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

me from the beginning of this war that a man’s 
loyalty depends more on himself and his own man- 
hood than on where he was born. But I’m glad you 
have such a good argument, for there are lots of 
other people who need it. One man just told us 
that this outfit was all foreigners.” 

He’s mistaken,” said Swartz. ‘‘ I doubt if we 
have more men of foreign birth than you will find 
in almost any outfit that happens to have been 
recruited from one of our big cities. The man just 
doesn’t realize what a big percentage of people of 
foreign birth America has. He would be surprised 
to know that our army has over three hundred thou- 
sand Italians, sixty thousand Greeks, sixty thousand 
Czechoslovaks, thirty thousand Lithuanians, be^ 
sides men of some twenty other nationalities. He’d 
be surprised to know that from ten to fifteen per 
cent, of the army is of German birth or descent.” 

‘‘ You’re right,” said Billy. “ My father can tell 
you a lot about those things. You’ll meet him 
because he is going to be Red Cross representative 
at the hospital center.” 

How far is that place? ” 

'' Only a few miles, I reckon. I’m expecting to 
see the hospital buildings pretty soon.” 

But they did not see any hospital buildings until 


A Fellow Named Swartz 237 


they had entered the quaint old French village which 
formed the hospital town. This village was nearly 
two thousand years old. It had been used as a base 
of supply by Julius Caesar in his wars. Its main 
road was the old Roman road that his men had built. 
There were no young men in the place. Some of 
the old ones looked as if they might have been left 
behind by Caesar. 

But when they marched up past the village to the 
location of the hospital center they found young 
men in plenty. They were American soldiers of 
the best; the men of the medical corps who were 
doing duty at the various hospitals of the hospital 
center. But far more interesting to Billy than these 
stalwart young Americans were the thousands of 
wounded American soldiers whom they served. 

Very soon Billy became a familiar figure at the 
hospitals of this center. Without having any 
specific duties assigned to him, he was always busy 
and always in demand. If he had a spare moment 
he liked best to go into wards A and B in which 
were the amputation cases and do some service for 
the friends he had there. 

The field hospital in which Emil Swartz was 
enrolled went into temporary quarters very close to 
these special amputation wards, each of which was 


238 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

in a long, one-storied wooden building. Swartz 
was assigned to Ward A for temporary duty. He 
was somewhat of a mechanical turn of mind and 
soon showed a perfect genius in the adjustment of 
the Thomas splints that were so much used. 

Where’s Swartz ? ” the patients would cry. ‘‘ I 
want Swartz to come and fix my leg. He knows 
just how.” 

Swartz was greatly pleased at this popularity. He 
worked uncomplainingly more hours than any man 
in the ward. But he did not falter in his wish that 
the day might soon come when he could go to the 
front. 

Billy found Swartz to be a good fellow in every 
way, and was always glad to help him in Ward A. 
The thing about which they centered their ambitions 
for the time being was to get as many Ward A men 
as possible ready to go to the opening entertainment 
of the Red Cross Auditorium, just constructed. 

The new building was splendid. The programme 
would be magnificent, for some great artists had 
been secured in honor of the occasion. It was 
agreed that all patients capable of bearing transpor- 
tation to the building should be honored with 
places at the very front, next the stage. 

When the great day came, Billy and Swartz man- 


A Fellow Named Swartz 239 


aged to get thirty of their patients to the Audi- 
torium. Some were able to use crutches, but not a 
few were carried over. The Auditorium was soon 
crowded to its utmost capacity. 

Billy was always granted privileges, so it was 
not surprising that he was allowed behind the 
scenes. A couple of men were needed to manage 
the temporary curtains that screened the stage, since 
the permanent ‘‘ drop ” had not yet been received. 
So Billy contrived that Swartz should be admitted 
as one of these men. 

The entertainment was a tremendous success. It 
was the first relaxation of this nature for most of 
these men, since they had left their own land. Their 
pleasure was intensified by the fact that many of the 
performers were the great artists of their own land. 

The evening drew to a close. It was the last act. 
Something was required involving a display of fire, 
simple enough under ordinary circumstances, but 
more difficult at this time because of the newness of 
everything. 

No one dreamed of danger. The curtains were 
drawn across the stage, the audience breathlessly 
waiting for the next act. Suddenly there was a 
bright flash, the noise of a slight explosion, and 


240 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

flame shot out from the stage and seized upon one 
half of the curtain. 

Billy saw that in some way the temporary drop 
curtain, a massive thing of inflammable material, had 
been set on fire. It was raging up toward the roof. 
If its supports gave way it would fall out over the 
audience, full upon the helpless Ward A patients, 
who were utterly unable to help themselves. 

Vaguely he was conscious of the general excite- 
ment that prevailed. He saw officers and men 
hurrying to the rescue. He could hear voices in the 
audience shouting ‘‘Tenshun!’’ and commanding 
men to stay in their seats. But the big, overwhelm- 
ing, calamitous thought was of the blazing curtain 
that might drop any moment upon his helpless 
friends. 

Billy rushed toward the flame, but there -was one 
quicker than he. He was pushed violently aside, 
and as he picked himself up it was to see Private 
Swartz tear the blazing curtain from its supports 
and jump bodily upon the great, flaming mass, 
stamp upon it, crush it, and beat it with a piece of 
canvas held in his bare hands, as if he were a sala- 
mander over whom flame had no power. 

Swartz had saved the Auditorium. He had saved 
from a terrible catastrophe those thirty patients of 


A Fellow Named Swartz 241 


Ward A whom he had so proudly conveyed thither. 
And possibly he had saved hundreds of others. But 
he was obliged to pay the penalty. 

Billy watched besicje him in some of those ter- 
rible days that followed. He suffered greatly, but 
fortunately he was unconscious much of the time. 

I guess I didn’t do so badly for a fellow named 
Swartz, Billy?” he whispered in one of his con- 
scious moments. “ But I guess I will never get to 
the front line now.” 

Nevertheless, two days later Private Swartz was 
at the front. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE HUNDREDTH PRISONER 

And SO the War was really over ! It was beyond 
belief. Scarcely any of the A. E. F. men believed 
it possible until a very few hours before the 
Armistice was really signed. 

It seemed too good to be true that there was actu- 
ally a possibility that war would be over before 
Christmas. Every one had been counting on getting 
through the winter in the best way possible, and 
then ending the war with a mighty sweep in that 
tremendous offensive that was planned for the 
spring of 1919. What a gloriously fine thing it 
would be if no such costly drive were needed! But 
who could believe it ? It was too good to be true. 

Billy Ransom lived in this atmosphere of hope 
and uncertainty for several weeks. As November 
crept along the conviction became more and more 
settled that the end was at hand. Fighting still con- 
tinued, but it might be stopped at any hour. 

242 


The Hundredth Prisoner 243 


The feverish days slipped by. Each day it became 
more and more evident that the Germans would 
sign, and at last came the joyful news that eleven 
o^clock of the morning of November 11 would put 
at least a temporary end to hostilities. 

“ Won^t it be awfully hard lines,’’ said Billy, if 
some fellow gets killed or badly wounded at about 
five minutes before eleven on the eleventh? ” 

‘‘ That is likely to happen to some man, though,” 
said his father. 

It happened that not one but many men were 
wounded in the fighting of that last eventful day, 
and some on both sides were killed. Billy was to 
see some of the wounded in the hospital in later 
days and hear their wonderful stories of the last 
hours of conflict. 

On the historic morning of the eleventh of 
November, 1918, Billy and Dr. Ransom rode into 
the city of Nantes, early in the morning, in a Red 
Cross car. Nantes is a real city. Its population 
had been increased by some forty thousand Belgian 
refugees, so that it numbered nearly a quarter of a 
million inhabitants. 

Always a lively place, the excitement and com- 
motion on this particular day exceeded anything 
that Billy had seen in France. The houses and 


244 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

buildings were emptied of inhabitants. All were 
out in the streets to join in the hurrah, to watch the 
bands and parades, to shout, to exult, to try to real- 
ize in some slight measure that the War was actually 
over and that they were victors. 

A band of daring French aviators were making 
exhibition flights over the city. They would soar 
almost out of sight, then they would drop suddenly 
down in a descent that was nothing less than a 
swoop, coming lower and lower until the merry- 
hearted, watching crowd would break and scatter 
in all directions, save for some few knowing 
soldiers who had seen that kind of thing before. 
Just before starting on their upward flight they gen- 
erally threw some printed matter to the people 
below. 

Doctor Ransom and Billy sat in their car in the 
Place du Commerce and watched these maneuvers. 
It certainly seemed that the great wings would 
smash into the top of their car. But in another sec- 
ond the machine was again mounting steadily 
upward, leaving the crowd of people in the square 
scrambling for the printed souvenirs. 

‘‘ Fm going to get one of them,’’ exclaimed Billy. 

I want to see what it says.” 

He jumped over the side of the car and ran into 


The Hundredth Prisoner 245 


the midst of the crowd. Only a few of the printed 
slips remained, but being young and agile, Billy 
was able to snatch one of the few. 

He stood in the square examining it with great 
interest. 

Avec Des Assassins^ 

Avec Des Incendiaires, 

Avec Des Voleurs, 

On Ne Discute Pas 
On Les Juge! 

SOUVENEZ — Vous ! 

Ligue pour perpetuer, a travers les ages, le sou- 
venir des crimes allemands. 

It showed that although the War might be over, 
the people of France were not willing to settle 
down to amiable forgetfulness of the things they 
had gone through. It was not surprising to Billy; 
he could feel with these French people. Was not 
his own Uncle Henri at this moment a prisoner of 
the Germans, perhaps subject to all manner of indig- 
nities? No, they would not forget easily. Still, he 
thought, they might be Christian enough to forgive. 

But suddenly, even as Billy was examining the 
paper, the bells of the great clocks sounded eleven 
o’clock, and the whole city went suddenly mad. 
Eleven o’clock of November 11, 1918! Never 


246 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

before had such an eventful hour sounded. Never 
again "would it be heard. The fight was ended. The 
ancient enemy of France was vanquished. There 
would be no more fighting, no more war, no more 
lists of killed and wounded, no more separation 
from home and kindred. Prisoners would be com- 
ing home, troops would be demobilized, families 
would be reunited, little children would learn to 
know their fathers, men who had been absent for 
years would return to their beloved soil. 

Yes, there was much on the other side, too; 
many, many who would not return. But this was 
no time to think of them. This was the hour of 
jubilee. 

Men threw their hats and coats into the air and 
shouted ^^Vive la France! Women sobbed in each 
other’s arms. Any man in uniform was in danger 
of being kissed and hugged, and faced the peril of 
being smothered to death with affection. 

Billy Ransom wore the khaki of the Boy Scouts 
of America. It was enough for the enthusiastic 
crowds that he was of the United States. A crowd 
rushing through the square at a gallop picked him 
up and carried him along. He was lifted on to the 
shoulders of a big mechanic who had evidently 
rushed straight from his work, for he wore only 


The Hundredth Prisoner 247 


undershirt, trousers, and heavy wooden shoes. 
Everywhere was noise and confusion. Steam 
whistles were blowing, automobile horns tooting, 
bands playing, people shouting, flags waving, sol- 
diers marching, and the air was filled with fine 
confetti. 

When Billy was let down he was minus several 
buttons that had been detached from his blouse for 
souvenirs; he had been kissed by a dozen women 
and men, he had been thumped and slapped and 
embraced and urged to drink and the farther he 
went the more of this treatment he faced. 

The door of a substantial building bearing the 
sign of the French Red Cross stood open, and he 
slipped quietly inside, just in time to evade the 
caress of a particularly fat and ancient French- 
woman. 

Here was one place that had escaped the con- 
fusion. It was rather dark after the bright sun- 
shine outside, and the only noises were those that 
came in from the street. 

Billy recognized the building as one to which he 
had been brought by a very clever Frenchwoman, 
Madame Gazin, on a previous visit to Nantes. 

All that he wanted to do was to slip out through 
the rear of the premises into a quieter street and 


248 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

from there make his way back to the place where 
his father waited for him. But, passing an open 
door, he was surprised and very much pleased to 
see his old friend, Madame Gazin. 

It is Billy Ransom, my scout, is it not?” said 
she. “But they have treated you roughly, my 
Billee.” 

“ It is nothing but fun,” responded Billy. “ But 
I can’t afford to lose any more buttons until I get 
back to camp. On such a great day the people may 
do whatever they like. All I want is to get back to 
my father at the Place du Commerce.” 

“ Very well, Billee. I will show you how you 
may get there quietly. I am leaving in a short time 
for the Gare d’Orleans. I will tell you a secret. 
We have word that the Germans are planning to 
release our men who are so unfortunate as to be 
their prisoners, in such a way that it will be hard 
for the poor, starved, weak men to get back to their 
friends. Think of them being turned loose on the 
frontier to make their own way on foot for forty or 
fifty miles in this November weather! Many of the 
weak will die. I am one of those who go to see 
what help can be given.” 

“ Can I help? ” asked Billy. 

Madame Gazin looked at him critically. “ You 


The Hundredth Prisoner 249 

are almost a man, Billee,’’ she said at last. ‘‘ You 
have grown so broad and tall you are almost a man. 
I believe you can help much. But I must tell you 
that it is not without danger, this trip. And it will 
be very uncomfortable travel after we leave Paris.’’ 

“ I can do anything that a woman can do,” 
replied Billy. “And Fm not used to traveling in 
comfort.” 

He ran off by a quiet way pointed out by Madame 
Gazin, found his father in the Place du Commerce, 
and readily secured permission to go. 

“ ril keep an eye open for Uncle Henri, you may 
be sure,” he promised his father as he left. 

An hour later he was riding at top speed to Paris 
with Madame Gazin. 

In Paris Madame Gazin secured a French Red 
Cross truck loaded with supplies of all kinds that 
were likely to be needed by the freed prisoners. 
They were able to make pretty good time by avoid- 
ing the roads that were badly cut up. On the evening 
of the second day they approached Nancy. 

The rumor that had reached Madame Gazin had 
received ample confirmation. Already little bands 
of released prisoners, coming in twos and tens and 
twenties, were struggling into Nancy. These were 


250 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the stronger men, well able to walk, or else a fortu- 
nate few who had not had far to journey on foot. 

But there were hundreds of weak, sick, and 
crippled men lingering along the road, and some 
dying by the wayside. Men who would find five 
miles a hard day’s march had been turned loose on 
the border, thirty miles from sustenance, without 
proper shoes or clothing, and without rations other 
than a little black bread. They lined the roads to 
Metz, to Nancy, and to all the border towns. 

At an old camp outside Nancy they found a com- 
pany of French soldiers who were employed in 
cleaning the place and putting it in readiness to 
receive as many of the returning men as possible. 

‘‘Are you an American ? ” the officer asked Billy. 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied Billy. 

“ You will find some of your countrymen at the 
concentration camp,” said the officer. “ They have 
need of all you can give them.” 

The camp was not far away. Billy could hardly 
believe that the rough group of men wearing odds 
and ends of all kinds of uniforms, German caps and 
even German helmets in some cases, could be Amer- 
ican soldiers. But the uproarious cheers with which 
they hailed the U. S. flag that hung from the truck 
soon convinced him. Billy would have been glad 


The Hundredth Prisoner 25 1 


to unload all that he had for these boys, but 
Madame Gazin objected. They were all sound and 
in good strength. The mission of the Red Cross 
supplies was to those who had fallen by the wayside. 

Billy gave out enough supplies to cheer the hearts 
and stomachs of these cheerful doughboys, and then 
they drove off again to search for those in greater 
need. 

All night long they searched the roads that led 
from the frontier to Nancy. A cold wind was blow- 
ing and a dreary rain falling, but these only made 
their work more imperative. Load after load they 
picked up and carried to shelter, until over forty 
exhausted prisoners who had literally dropped by 
the wayside had been rescued. Men able to travel, 
they supplied with food and left to make their own 
way. 

It was after four o’clock in the morning, and 
they had just brought to the Red Cross hospital five 
crippled men whom they had picked up twelve miles 
out, when Billy discovered that they were out of 
gasoline and he could get no more until daylight. 

'‘We shall rest two hours, then,” said Madame 
Gazin. 

Billy stretched himself on the long seat of the 
truck, or camion, and in spite of cold and discom- 


252 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

fort was asleep in less than a minute. Had they 
attempted another trip that night he might have 
gone to sleep at the steering wheel. 

Early in the morning they started again. A cold 
rain fell all day, but the main roads were not impas- 
sable. So many wayfarers did they find, utterly 
unfit for the journey yet struggling feebly on, that 
it seemed quite impossible to cease their work. 

Night came again. It was now three nights that 
Billy had been deprived of his regular rest, and he 
was very weary. 

I will get another driver,” suggested Madame 
Gazin. ‘‘ It is too hard work for you.” 

It is no harder for me than for you,” protested 
Billy. If I feel sleepy all I’ve got to do is to think 
of those poor crippled, sick fellows, out in the rain 
and mud and cold, struggling along on their sore 
feet, and I wake right up. We only lack five of 
having brought in a hundred. Let’s go back and 
get the five, anyway.” 

So they started once more and this time they 
drove ten miles before finding a man who needed 
their aid. Another half mile and they found two 
poor fellows who told them of a companion whom 
they had been obliged to leave in the lee of a hedge 
while they trudged on for succor. This fourth man 


The Hundredth Prisoner 253 

was in a serious state. They could take only one 
more. 

A full mile they journeyed, anxiously watching 
the road as it opened up to their headlights. 

‘^It is enough,” said Madame Gazin at last. 
‘‘Let’s go back to Nancy.” 

“But we have room for one more,” objected 
Billy. “ How I hate to think of neglecting some 
man who may be dragging himself along, almost 
within our reach ! ” 

Just then Billy stopped the car, because he saw 
at the roadside a uniformed figure lying very still 
and quiet. 

“ I fear from his looks that we are too late for 
him,” said Madame Gazin, for they had seen sev- 
eral bodies by the roadside whose spirits had left 
the wearied frames forever. 

But Billy climbed down and ran over to the man. 

“ He is alive ! ” he shouted. “ His body is warm, 
and his heart beats.” 

Then his own heart almost stopped beating in the 
great surprise that came as he heard this ragged, 
unshaved, mud-spattered veteran say in a faint 
voice, “ Billy Ransom ! ” 

“ Oh, Madame Gazin, come quickly ! ” shouted 
Billy Ransom. “ Oh, to think that we came near 


254 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

going back without our hundredth man. He is my 
Uncle Henri, Madame. Major Deschamps of the 
French Army! 


CHAPTER XXI 


BACK TO THE HOMELAND 

After November 11, 1918, every American in 
France had the same desire, — to go home. A few 
months before, the longing had been to get over to 
France. We’re going over ” had been the popular 
song. Now one could strike no more popular chord 
than ‘‘ The day when I’ll be going down that long, 
long trail with you.” 

Billy Ransom was suddenly seized with an intense 
homesickness. He wanted to go home so badly that 
he really thought that he could not live in France 
one single week longer. Yet days, even months 
went by, and Billy still lingered. His going 
depended upon his father, and the American 
Red Cross still had important duties for Major 
Ransom to perform in France. 

I want to go home, father,” pleaded Billy. 

Can’t you manage to get started ? I’m sure your 
practice at home is all going to pieces.” 

256 


256 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

“ My practice at home has probably gone to pieces 
long ago/' replied Dr. Ransom. “ You’ll have to 
hold yourself in a while longer, Billy. Every boy 
in the Army feels as bad or worse than you do, and 
that is one reason why the Red Cross is obliged to 
keep us where we can look after them. There are 
thirty thousand wounded American soldiers still in 
the A. E. F. hospitals, all pining to go home. Which 
of them do you want to give up his passage to 
you?” 

That was rather a poser for Billy. He decided to 
keep quiet. Dr. Ransom sent him to Paris to see his 
Uncle Henri, who had recovered his health and 
strength and had been discharged into the army 
reserve, so that he was able to give much attention 
to seeing that his nephew had a good time. 

Then one day in May came a telegram from 
Major Ransom : Sailing on hospital ship Mercy 
for U. S. in charge of convoy of wounded. Come 
to St. Nazaire at once.” 

You may be sure Billy went. Billy found his 
father at St. Nazaire, for the hospital ship Mercy 
already lay in the basin, having come in on the high 
water of the previous night. Major Ransom was 
extremely busy. He was bringing three hundred 
litter cases from Hospital Center, and was to be in 


Back to The Homeland 257 


charge of the convoy until it reached New York. 
This was only a small part of the Mercy^s load, but 
the other patients were already stowed away. 

Billy was enchanted with the Mercy. Although 
so large a number of wounded were stowed away 
between her decks, there was not a dark or dismal 
corner to be seen. Everywhere were comfortable 
beds, generally in two tiers, all of them clean, all of 
them light, and all of them well ventilated. 

There were wonderful operating rooms equal to 
those of the best hospitals of New York. On special 
occasions they had been the scene of successful 
surgiVal operations of very intricate character. The 
Mercy was a credit to the United States. It was a 
special honor to be one of her passengers. 

Then came disaster. Billy could not go! The 
Mercy must sail without him. 

It was not discovered until the last moment. 
Major Ransom was very busy embarking his 
wounded men. This was done with the greatest 
precision, and in spite of the fact that the men were 
wounded soldiers, they^ were scrutinized carefully 
and each man checked against the passenger list 
before being allowed to embark. If the man were 
too sick to answer for himself, a hospital sergeant 
responded for him. 


258 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

Everything checked successfully, even to the 
equipment of the ‘‘ mental cases who were quite 
irresponsible. The attendants were all at hand. 
The officers were assigned to their cabins. The 
checking officer looked up from his list with a smile 
of relief. 

Then his face took on a look of perplexity. I 
don’t see your boy’s name on the passenger list. 
Major Ransom,” said he. 

It must be there ! ” exclaimed Major Ransom. 

The evacuation officer told me distinctly that Billy 
would be included as a special attendant. I have 
his identification card and physical examination and 
everything right here.” 

Everything’s all right but the passenger list,” 
said the officer. “ His name is not on it.” 

“What can I do?” said Major Ransom. “We 
have scarcely an hour before sailing time.” 

“ The only thing to do is to see the commander 
of the port,” said the officer. “ No one else can give 
permission for us to add a name to the passenger 
list at this stage of affairs.” 

“ But I can’t take the chance of leaving my con- 
voy so near to sailing time,” said Major Ransom. 

“ No, I’m afraid not,” admitted the officer. 

Major Ransom drew to one side for consultation 


Back to The Homeland 


259 


with some of the medical officers. ‘‘ Will one of 
you gentlemen go with Billy to the commanding 
general and explain the situation? he asked. 

There was no immediate response. They were all 
American doctors who had been away from home 
for many weary months. It would be a terrible 
thing if they missed this sailing. 

‘‘ Stow him in one of our cabins, Doctor,’* advised 
one. ‘‘ It’s a poor rule that can’t be broken occa- 
sionally. He’ll be all right.” 

“No, I can’t do that,” said Dr. Ransom slowly. 
“ I don’t believe Billy would want me to do that ; 
would you, son? ” 

It took Billy a long time to shake his head. “ Not 
if you couldn’t do it on the square, father,” he 
gulped out at last. 

“He’s right, too,” said a young lieutenant. 
“ You’ll have to lie about it from start to finish, or 
else get into no end of trouble. I’ll go with Billy 
and we’ll see the commanding general.” 

Lieutenant Bell had a young wife waiting for 
him at home, as well as a little boy he never had 
seen. Billy felt the greatness of his sacrifice and 
determined that the Lieutenant should not be the 
loser. 

An ambulance that still lingered at the dock took 


260 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

them across the bridge and over the cobbled streets 
to port headquarters at top speed. 

Lieutenant Bell was a persuasive young officer. 
He managed to work his way into the presence of 
the adjutant in short order, where he told his story 
quickly and clearly. 

“ Sorry,’' replied the adjutant. I really am very 
sorry, indeed. But we’ve had so much trouble with 
petitions to add names to passenger lists at the last 
minute, and so often has it been discovered that the 
names presented were not entitled to passage, that it 
is absolutely forbidden. The only one who could 
grant permission is the general himself. 

“And where is he ? ’* asked Lieutenant Bell. 

“ He went to Nantes in his car this morning. He 
expected to be back before the Mercy sailed. I 
expect him any minute.” 

Lieutenant Bell sat silent, but Billy spoke up. 

“ You go back to the Mercy, Lieutenant,” he 
urged. “ You have done everything possible. Tell 
my father that if I cannot get permission in time to 
sail on the Mercy, I will call on the Red Cross to 
help me back to Paris, and Uncle Henri will arrange 
for my passage. Go on. You must not miss sail- 
ing on the Mercy” 

And Billy, with tears in his eyes, was watching 



An officer pinned on Billy’s chest the famous 
French Croix de Guerre. Page 261. 





Back to The Homeland 


261 


the very last speck of the Mercy skipping away over 
the blue waters when at last the commanding gen- 
eral returned to headquarters. 

Uncle Henri met Billy in Paris the next morning 
at half -past seven. 

“ It’s good that you didn’t go, Billy. I have a 
surprise in store for you — something I just heard 
of yesterday.” 

Two days later he took Billy to the headquarters 
of the French Army, where an officer pinned on 
Billy’s chest the famous French Croix de Guerre. 

‘‘ It is for the services you rendered with the Sec- 
ond Division. Your friend, Madame Gazin, is 
responsible. She was so pleased with the way you 
helped her bring in the men who had been in the 
German prison camps on that memorable occasion 
when you saved your uncle’s life, that she deter- 
mined you should have a medal. So since she could 
not get one for work done after the armistice, she 
presented the other record. Now aren’t you glad 
you stayed ? ” 

Billy tried to assent, but his heart denied it. He 
was proud of the Croix de Guerre, but the 
thing he wanted more than all other things was to 
get back home. 

Major Deschamps redoubled his efforts to secure 


262 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

the required passage for the boy, but every one in 
the A. E. F. was trying to return home at the same 
time, and there seemed no room for Billy. 

Then, quite unexpectedly, came a wire from the 
adjutant at St. Nazaire, with whom Billy left his 
address. He had remembered the plucky boy, and, 
finding a single vacancy on the S. S. Mongolia, 
chose Billy to fill it. 

This time Major Deschamps went with Billy to 
St. Nazaire to see him safely aboard the vessel. 

The only way to send you was as civilian 
employee attendant to some mental cases,’’ said the 
adjutant. ‘‘ There won’t be much to do after you 
get started, but just now you must get up into that 
little cage on top of the sick bay and stay there with 
the patients until the vessel gets under way.” 

Billy climbed up gladly. He was not afraid of 
mental cases. Chiefly they were poor fellows who 
had found the rude shocks of war too much for 
them. 

There he watched the embarkation of the 
troops. The Mongolia was carrying home four 
thousand men. Billy could hear the men calling 
their names to be checked on the passenger lists, 
and a glad throb came to his heart at the realization 
that his own name was surely written there. 


Back to The Homeland 263 

Now that he was quite safe himself it was amus- 
ing to listen to the remarks that floated up. 

‘‘ Speak up there ! Hi, you boy, havent you got 
a name! Jones? Which Jones; IVe got fifty on 
this list! Louder there. You haven’t been shell- 
shocked. Get that whisper out of your system.” 

Some of the names he could hear quite distinctly, 
some not at all. It became monotonous after a 
while, but suddenly he was brought back to sharp 
attention by hearing names that seemed familiar. 

He listened sharply until there came some unmis- 
takable names. 

“ McGiffon — Philip ! ” ‘‘ Rooney — Theodore ! ” 
‘'Jackson — Fred!” and at last there thundered in 
unmistakable and well-beloved tones : “ McGiffon 
— William!” 

Then Billy knew that he was actually going home 
with the 199th, and for the first time he was glad 
that he had not sailed on the Mercy. 

It was early evening and the Mongolia was pick- 
ing her way out to sea, before he caught his first 
glimpse of his old friends. He was standing at the 
rail near the sick bay, looking down on the mass of 
men grouped on the deck below. They were packed 
together so tightly that it seemed almost out of the 
question for any one to move. But from a point 


264 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

just below him Billy noticed some activity, and soon 
they had cleared a narrow lane leading to a funnel 
against which one man made a back ”, his head 
toward the funnel. Four other men followed suit 
so that five backs were down joined in a row. At 
the end of the cleared lane five men ranged them- 
selves in readiness to spring upon the waiting backs. 

‘‘ What are they going to do ? ” inquired an officer 
at Billy's elbow. 

‘‘I know,” said Billy; ‘‘they're going to play 
‘ Buck, buck, how many fingers do I hold up.' These 
five men at the back have to jump on the backs of 
the men who are down, and light in such a way 
that they can stay on. There they go. The last 
man on will hold up his fingers and call. See, he 
holds up three. Say, excuse me, but I know that 
man. I must holler before he gets away. Oh 
Sarge! Sergeant McGiffon! Look up this way. 
Here I am ! ” 

The game was over then. A confused mass of 
men of the 199th came scrambling up to see their 
old chum, Billy Ransom; and when ordered down 
by an officer they dragged Billy down with them. 

From that time on Billy spent all of his spare 
time with the 199th. They were going back home 
rather late, but in great spirits. 


Back to The Homeland 


265 


“All the heroes have gone home already,” said 
Sergeant Rooney. “ The triumphal arches have 
cracked with the weather, the color in the bunting 
has all run together in the rain, the home folks have 
cheered so much they have nothing left but mild 
whispers, but all the same I guess every one of us 
knows one or two people who will be ready to give 
him a pat on the shoulder.” 

“ I know a Mother McGiffon who’ll go wild with 
delight at getting both of her boys back in good 
shape,” said Phil McGiffon. 

“And I reckon there’ll be some of the Ransoms 
looking for a boy of that name,” added Sergeant 
Bill. “ If I ever get to see Mrs. Ransom, I’m going 
to tell her some things about that boy that’ll make 
her turn pink with pleasure.” 

Never will Billy forget the night that the Mon- 
golia approached New York harbor. The boys had 
been watching for hours that they might catch their 
first sight of the Statue of Liberty, but darkness 
came and they were obliged to be content with see- 
ing the lights of the city. 

Early in the morning came the small boats and 
river tugs carrying friends of those on board. A 
great many men of the Keystone Division were on 
board, and delegations from Pennsylvania cities had 


266 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

come to greet them. A tug appeared in sight 
crowded with visitors. On her side she carried the 
banner: ‘‘ Pittsburgh welcomes her heroes.’* From 
all over the little vessel the people thrust into sight 
small signs proclaiming greetings to individuals 
supposed to be on board the Mongolia. 

“ Welcome to Pvt. Henry Ricker.” Sergeant 
Joe Dapper. Love from Mother.** “Asbury S. S. 
greets her boys.** 

At last to the joy of the 199th came a sign for 
their very own, Waiteville waits for the McGiffon 
boys.** As everyone knew that Waiteville was the 
McGiffon home town, the welcome was unmistak- 
able, and the 199th was able to cheer without 
restraint. 

Billy stood a little apart from the group and 
watched these thrilling greetings with unconscious 
tears streaming down his face. 

‘‘ What you crying about, Billy ? ** asked Rooney, 
slapping his shoulders. 

I’m not crying,” Billy asserted indignantly. 
And it was not until he was obliged to wipe the 
moisture from his cheeks that he realized what emo- 
tions the scene had stirred. 

Truth to tell, Billy’s crying did have just a little 
personal touch, for he had hoped that on one of 


Back to The Homeland 267 

these visiting tugs might be his own father and 
mother. 

But when the Mongolia docked a Red Cross offi- 
cer from New York came to assist him with his 
baggage and tell him that both father and mother 
would greet him at the home town, which he would 
reach the next day at noon. 

“All right,'’ said Billy. “ I did hope one of them 
would come here. But what's one day after all the 
waiting I've done ? " 

A little before noon of the next day Billy was 
peering out of the open car window. Hadn't the 
porter just shouted: “ Maytown! The next station, 
Maytown ? " 

What a joy it was to get back once more to that 
little town! It had been a big town two years 
before, when Billy left it. But he had traveled in 
the largest cities of the world in the interval, and 
he now knew that it was only a little place; little, 
but the dearest place in all the world. 

Would the Maytown people remember him? 
Would they be glad to see him? Would they think 
he had done justice to his upbringing? Or would 
they just say : “ Why, hello, Billy ! Haven't seen 
you for a long time. Been away somewhere? " 

Well, he would soon know. He could see the 


268 Boy Scouts on Special Service 

station now. There was a crowd on the platform as 
when the governor’s special came through. Per- 
haps some big man had his private car on the back 
of this train and was going to make a two-minute 
talk. Must be something of the kind because there 
was actually a band on the platform, playing ‘‘ The 
Long, Long Trail.” Well, he’d get to see a lot of 
people all at once, anyway. 

Billy, baggage in hand, had been ready to go 
ever since they passed the last station. 

He ran to the steps and jumped off into the 
crowd. Yes, father was there and mother was 
there, and everybody but the band was shouting 
and yelling and thrusting out his hands at him — 
at Billy Ransom! 

And what was that big banner, done in red and 
blue and gold? He could hardly believe his eyes, 
for it read : 

Maytown Welcomes Her Croix de Guerre 
Hero! 

Welcome Home to Billy Ransom ! 


[ THE END ] 


KiON-REFERt 







The Second Book in Mr, Quirk’s New Boy Scout Series 


THE BOY SCOUTS 
ON CRUSADE 


By LESLIE W. QUIRK 
Author of the “Wellworth College Series,” and 
‘ ‘ The Black Eagle Patrol Series ’ ’ 
Illustrated 


HIS is the story of how the Black Eagle 
Patrol turned sleepy Lakeville into a wide 
awake town. Jump Henderson, billed on the 
circus posters as the youngest of an aerial casting 
troupe, called it a “hick” town when he was left 
there to grow up with normal boys; and it required 
a long summer of planning and accomplishing to 
make him change his opinion — or his character. 
But in the end the scouts managed to do both. 

The efforts of the patrol are neither prosy nor 
miraculous. From the moment they encounter the 
circus wagons halting for a rest till they carry the 
town’s bid for a factory in a race against time 
through a wild, unknown country, there is action 
and sport and play and adventure in heaping 
measures. 

“The Boy Scouts on Crusade” offers all the hu- 
mor and seriousness, all the thrills and joys and 
complications, that may reasonably be expected in 
an intimate account of the livtJ of real boys during 
a summer crammed with unusual incidents. 



LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publisher.- 
34 Beacon St., Boston 


A Departure from the Usual Boy Scout Story. 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
BLACK EAGLE PATROL 


By LESLIE W. QUIRK. 

Author of “The Wellworth College Series.’* 
Illustrated. 


The first volume in Mr. Quirk’s Boy Scout series is the 
story of the eight boys of the Black Eagle Patrol, with a ninth 
“outside” boy thrown in for good measure, together with a 
girl, the scout master, a burglar, and several inevitable grown- 
ups. It is a spirited account of how the patrol caught the 
unknown hero in a horse-blanket while “fishing” for quite 
another youngster, reluctantly accepted the “scared rabbit” 
as a tenderfoot, nicknamed him “Bunny,” and said uncom- 
plimentary things about him until — well, until they discovered 
he was little in stature only. Before he became a first-class 
scout at the end, his career as a Black Eagle was as checkered 
as the kitchen apron the girl saw him wear while he tried 
desperately but unsuccessfully to make griddle-cakes. He 
learned to cook, rescued a doubter of his courage, freed an 
innocent man at a trial, saved an orchard from frost, built a 
house, won a game and a race, and did many other greater and 
lesser things with the aid of his fellow-scouts. 

The story is full of rippling fun and thrilling tensity; of 
real boy problems at home, at school, and in the patrol itself ; 
of dramatic situations and stirring adventures; of athletic 
stunts and exciting games; and of that kind of scoutcraft that 
is clean and informative by example without being preachy 
or teachy. 


LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publishers 
34 Beacon St., Boston. 












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